Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
by Kyizi
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts as a Professor rather than a student, much to the dismay of a certain Potions Master. What ancient magic does she possess? And can she help stop Voldemort or will she be tempted to join him?
1. In the Eyes of the Beholder

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic 

**Author: **Kyizi

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related items do not belong to me. Only the Story and **its** related original ideas and characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended.

Title belongs to Sting.

**Rating:** PG-13 for the moment, although it will likely be raised for later chapters.

**Spoilers:** Philosopher's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix.

**Distribution:** Please ask, the answer will likely be yes.

**Feedback:** As always. This is my first ever Snape/Hermione fic, and likely my only one. This is at the request of Stevie-Jane, I hope you all enjoy.**Yahoo! Groups:** Kyizific

**Notes:**I haven't read much Snape/Hermione, but I wanted to give it a go. Enjoy.

**Important Notes: **

**#1: **I decided that I wanted Hermione to be 18 when she would have been going into her seventh year. Therefore, since we know Hermione's birthday is in September, but, to my knowledge, we don't actually know how old she is, I'm making her have turned 12 the September of her first year.  
**#2: **Also, despite the fact that the HP Verse states otherwise, my Professor Vector is a man. I started writing him that way, and I'm keeping him that way.  
**#3:** Also, my new beta, the wonderful Beluah Page, just informed me that JKR has confirmed that Blaise is a boy. Tough! She's staying a she for this fic!

**Dedication:** To Stevie-Jane. I hope you like it, sweetie.

_This chapter has been rechecked by my new beta, Beluah Page. So, a huge thank you for taking over this task now that my old beta, Heliona, is away sailing. You're fab!_

xxxxx

**Part One: In the Eyes of the Beholder**

xxxxx

Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Professor. It just didn't seem quite real. She sighed and glanced at her reflection. _Is this what a Hogwarts Professor looks like? _she wondered, knowing that it didn't really work like that. It didn't matter what she looked like. Each of her Professors was unique, there was no one way to look; nothing that branded you a teacher. The truth was, there was no definition of a Hogwarts Professor, and yet she still felt the need for a change.

The last thing she needed was for everyone to associate her with the bushy-haired bookworm they had known for the last six years. She needed for the Professors to treat her with respect as a colleague, and the students to respect her as a member of staff. She just knew that it was the latter that would be the harder part.

_Oh, Merlin, I'm going to be a teacher!_

Part of her still didn't want to believe it, despite the fact that she had spent the last two years preparing for and working toward it. Two years. She had been lying to her best friends for two years. She had been lying ever since the end of her fifth year. It may have only been a year for them, but it was two for her.

Wracked with guilt, Hermione sat down on her bed. She had wanted to tell them from the start, but Professor Dumbledore had sworn her to secrecy. The only people who knew were Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall and the relevant people at the Ministry of Magic who had found out that summer when she had applied and passed her exams. But she hated it.

She knew that it was best that no one knew, but she just hated that Ron and Harry would feel so betrayed. They had pleaded with her constantly throughout their sixth year to ease up, to stop studying so much. Ron knew that she had spent most of her summer studying furiously and he couldn't understand why she still had so much to learn. Everyone knew that Hermione Granger was the bookworm that would learn anything she could get her hands on, but he was at a loss to understand why she was killing herself for schoolwork she would have learned over the summer. And how could she explain that she had until June to complete her sixth and seventh years, and until August to get her teaching degree, when it was meant to be a secret?

Hermione sighed again and glanced at the pieces of parchment on her desk. She walked across the room, and picked them up, smiling in spite of her guilt. The top piece was her degree from Hogwarts and the second her teaching qualification. She had spent the last year, plus all of her summer working toward it, although the time turner had prolonged her study by over a year. A year. She was a year older than her friends were, in fact two, if she included her third year with the time turner, and they didn't even know it. Not only that, but she was a teacher, a qualified teacher.

Turning to the last piece of parchment in her hand, Hermione grinned, her eyes scanning the already memorised text. Dumbledore's elegant hand seemed to make it more real than her certificate, as she re-read the letter again.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Having received a copy of your teaching qualifications, I would like now to formally request that which we have previously discussed in person. I would like to officially offer you the position of Professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, starting on the 24th August._

_In anticipation of your acceptance, with respect to our previous discussions, I have enclosed your class schedule for the year ahead, and would like to request you submit your lesson plans as soon as possible._

_Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Granger. I look forward to working with you._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Order of Merlin, First Class_

She placed the pieces of parchment back on her desk, knowing her own sentimentality would have her taking them to Hogwarts, and also knowing that it would help to have them there. Just in case she ever felt the need to reassure herself that it was not, in fact, a dream. Still smiling to herself, Hermione turned to the mirror once more, deciding that she was definitely in the mood for a change.

With her decision made, she left her room and headed down the stairway to her kitchen, hoping that her Aunt Linda was not present. She had heard the woman leaving earlier, but that certainly didn't mean she was gone. While she wished she could call her Aunt Linda a sneaky old bat because she did, in fact, like to sneak up on Hermione when she least expected it, the truth was that Hermione liked her aunt. Besides that, she was not in the slightest bit old. Hermione's mother had been ten when her sister had was born and Linda had been ten when Hermione was born, it was a coincidence that Hermione had always been grateful for; her aunt was like a sister to her. However, Hermione did want to be alone for her trip. Although her aunt understood that she was a witch, and, in fact, loved to hear all about the Wizarding world, Linda was surprised rather easily, and a trip to Diagon Alley may well have given the poor woman a heart attack.

Hermione glanced at the photo in the hallway as she picked up her car keys and her purse from the cabinet below them. She was glad she had persuaded her parents to get a family photograph taken with a Wizarding camera; the photo had been one of the things that had saved her sanity during her grieving. She had never stopped grieving, not really, and she doubted she ever would, but it got easier. Although they were no longer in her life physically, her parents would always be in her heart.

She headed to the doorway, picking up her brown suede jacket from the coat stand, and went outside, making sure to lock the doors. She surreptitiously pulled out her wand and made sure that the newly placed wards were holding firmly, before walking to her car.

After her parents had been attacked everyone had been fretting about Hermione's safety and, no matter what she had wanted, they wouldn't leave her alone. Someone had been with her twenty-four hours a day until she had finally snapped and run off. Not the smartest thing she had ever done, she conceded, but she had made her point, and the following week she was back home with her aunt and her new protective wards, put in place by Albus Dumbledore himself.

_Good thing, too,_ Hermione thought as she pulled out of the driveway. _Had anyone actually made it into my house, I might have let my anger get the better of me, in which case, I'd either be dead or in Azkaban. Plus, I needed to be safe in my mind, or I'd never have got all that work done. Thank God Dumbledore decided to give me the chance to do this. I needed the distraction._

Twenty minutes later, Hermione had pulled into the train station and made her way to the Apparation point. It wasn't that she couldn't have done it from home, but if her aunt saw that the car was gone, she wouldn't ask any questions, she'd just assume her niece had been at the library rather than somewhere magical. Linda loved to ask questions, it was where Hermione got the rather irritating habit.

"Hermione!"

She swivelled round and grinned as Professor McGonagall approached her, looking rather out of place in her purple cloak. "Trying to fit in, I see, Professor," Hermione said with a smirk.

"I do my best," the elder woman replied with a smile. "How are you?"

"I'm all right," Hermione said honestly. "I have good days and bad, but I'm all right. Visiting Remus?"

"Yes," McGonagall replied, falling into step beside her as she resumed her walk to the Apparation point. "He's having issues with the Muggle world, but you know Remus, he's so soft that he's willing to get walked all over no matter where he is."

"Professor!"

"Oh, lighten up, Hermione," McGonagall said with a twinkle in her eyes. "And for the last time call me Minerva. We're going to be working together, after all."

"I'll see what I can do," she said with a small chuckle.

It had taken Hermione quite by surprise to discover that her straight-laced House Head had a wicked sense of humour and a penchant for causing as much strife as Fred and George Weasley put together. At first she hadn't known quite what to make of it. Her Professor had tutored her with her Apparation practical and Hermione had found herself stunned when she ended up in a brothel in Amsterdam. She had been sure the error was hers, and not the co-ordinates she had been given, therefore she had not mentioned it. It took finding herself in a pig's barn in Ohio, an iceberg at the North Pole, and arriving on the lap of a stripper before Hermione confronted the woman. Her teacher had found it hysterical and had never let her live it down. Looking back, though, Hermione couldn't figure out how she had missed the gleam in McGonagall's eyes every time she prepared to leave, or the knowing twinkle when she returned.

"Where are you headed?" McGonagall asked, breaking her reverie.

"Diagon Alley. I decided to pick up a few new things for the school year, and some new robes would be a good idea as well. The only ones I really have are my dress robes and my school robes. Plus," she added with a grin, "I decided to go for the makeover I've always wanted."

"Makeover?"

"Care to join me, Minerva?" she asked, trying out the name. It felt strange, but in a good way. She felt trusted as both an adult and possibly even a friend.

"Are you implying I need one, Miss Granger?"

For a moment, Hermione's heart stopped, but she noticed the look in McGonagall's eyes and shook her head. "Nice try, but you know what I mean. I'm not falling for it."

"Damn," Minerva said with a smirk. "Guess I'm back to baiting Sybill and Seriya."

Hermione laughed and opened the door to the small room, nodding to the witch guarding the reception area. She walked through the wards with no problem, knowing that they only scanned for Muggles, just in case someone happened to go through the door in spite of the disillusionment charms. It never hurt to be too careful, especially with Voldemort's recent attacks on Muggle households.

"Meet you in The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded and Apparated a few moments later.

She reappeared at the far end of the pub, instantly spotting McGonagall and wondering how on earth the woman had managed to get there before her and order the drink she was consuming at an alarming rate. Part of her felt she should be appalled by the behaviour of the woman she respected the most out of anyone she knew, but the rest of her was far too amused. All the same, she had to keep reminding herself that her teachers were people. She especially wanted to remind herself of that since she would be their colleague in less than a week.

"What took you so long, Hermione?" Minerva said with a wink, leaving her empty glass on the bar.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes as they approached the wall separating them from Diagon Alley. She pulled out her wand and tapped the sequence of bricks, inhaling deeply when the bustle of the Wizarding World appeared before them. She had missed it. She had missed the magic of it all, and not just the _actual_ magic, she missed the whole sense of wonder that came with the world itself. Being Muggle-born definitely had its advantages, as far as she was concerned. No matter how much the Wizarding world was everyday to her, it still held her captive with the fascination of a small child.

They made their way quickly to Gringotts, and Hermione withdrew a large sum of money that she had converted on receiving the contents of her parents' wills. She hoped that she wouldn't spend anywhere near the amount she took. They were quick to leave the dismal building and enter the bright sunshine once more. It wasn't often that the country was graced with good weather at that time of year, and they both wanted to take advantage of it for as long as possible.

"Where to first?"

"I don't know," Hermione said with a frown, following Minerva into the street. "I think I'd like to get the everyday things done first. So I think Madam Malkin's and then on to Flourish and Blotts. I need some new potions ingredients as well."

"Whatever for?" Minerva frowned at her. "If you need anything, just steal it from Severus."

For a moment, Hermione thought her old House Head knew of her past indiscretion in that regard, but the look on the woman's face told Hermione all she needed to know. "You steal from Snape?" she asked incredulously.

"You're not above that yourself, young lady, so I don't know why you look so horrified."

"You knew?"

Minerva laughed. "Of course I knew, Hermione, I'm not stupid. We all knew, we just couldn't prove it. Besides, Dumbledore assured us he had the utmost confidence in whatever you three were doing with them." She frowned and then gave Hermione a slow smile, causing the younger girl to take a step away.

"What?" Hermione asked warily.

"I have to be honest, I've always wanted to know. What on earth did you do with them?"

Hermione laughed. "We made some Polyjuice Potion and snuck into the Slytherin Common Room to see if we could get Malfoy to confess that he was the Heir of Slytherin."

"You what?"

For a brief moment, Hermione was sure that she was about to be reprimanded. Where there was little that McGonagall could do to her, she hoped she hadn't got Ron and Harry into trouble. Thankfully, she had misread the Professor again.

"You were only in second year, how on earth did you manage to make such a complex potion? Most students can't prepare a proper Polyjuice by the time they're in seventh year! I know, I have to listen to Severus complaining about it all the time. Where did you make it?"

"That I'm afraid I can't tell you, I have to leave Ron and Harry somewhere to go this year."

Minerva laughed. "Somehow I think those two would have no problem finding trouble either way, but I'll leave that one alone. Of course! I remember, now. You were in the hospital wing for a while if I recall. Cat hair."

Hermione groaned. "Don't remind me! I had no idea it was cat hair. And I was worried that turning into a Slytherin would be bad."

They had reached Madam Malkin's, and Hermione wasted no time in picking out some new clothes. Minerva, however, quickly put them back where they had been found. It seemed that if Hermione was having a makeover, then Minerva was going to make sure it was a good one and one that lasted.

An hour later, a grumbling Hermione and a happy Minerva left Madam Malkin's with a few bags full of purchases, and made their way to Flourish and Blotts. They both perused the books for another hour before making a few purchases, and Hermione couldn't help but think of Ron as Minerva purchased the latest Quidditch book. Hermione didn't even bother to see what it was about; a quick glance informed her that she wouldn't be interested.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the Hair Salon, Kayleigh's Kwik Kuts and Make-up Madness, and Hermione spent more money than she ever had in her life in one go. She almost grimaced as she handed the money over and was quick to close her pouch again, not wanting to see the few coins she had left.

"Lunch?"

"Minerva, it's nearly six o'clock."

"Well, supper then. Food is food."

"So long as I can sit down, I don't care."

"You just spent the last couple of hours in a salon sitting down," Minerva pointed out.

"It's not the same. I'll be eating, not subjecting myself to torture."

Minerva laughed and rolled her eyes, steering Hermione into Ashore Lane and into a small café. Hermione glanced at the sign, but couldn't make out what it said the writing was so faded. It was a small room with only twelve tables, but the bright décor made the space seem so much bigger than it was. Hermione instantly felt calmer and more relaxed than she had since being introduced to Minerva the Power Shopper.

McGonagall seemed to know the staff and they were quickly shown to a small table next to the window. They ordered and their food arrived only moments later, and Hermione knew she was glad to be in the Wizarding World. She was famished, and it was only when her food was put in front of her that she realised she hadn't eaten anything all day.

They made quick work of their supper and, before long, were headed back to The Leaky Cauldron. Minerva asked her to stay for a few drinks, but Hermione refused, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with a book.

She said goodbye and Apparated to the train station, glad that she had run into her old teacher. She knew that, however hard it might be fitting in with the rest of the staff, Minerva was on her side, and not only that, Hermione had made a friend. It seemed strange to be thinking of someone she respected so much as a friend, and yet there it was. Hermione Granger was no longer the small bushy haired little know-it-all; she was a teacher and an adult.

She smiled to herself as she cut the engine, aware that she had driven home on autopilot and ever thankful that she had avoided an accident. She was a good driver, but that didn't mean she liked the idea of driving without thinking.

She opened the boot and retrieved her purchases, making her way into the house and automatically checking the wards. The lights were on, and the moment she stepped inside, she realised just how cold it really was outside.

"Mia?"

Hermione grinned and placed her bags at the bottom of the stairs, and entered the kitchen. She smiled at her aunt and gave her a hug, avoiding the spoon that was dripping with what appeared to be chocolate spread.

"Hey," she said with a grin. "Another craving?"

Her aunt smiled and held up the bowl in her hands. "Chocolate spread with Chilli crisps and peanut butter."

"That's disgusting!"

"I know, but baby likes it."

"You have a weird child."

"I'll have you know," Linda said, leading Hermione towards the living room, "you had your mother craving Pickle Sandwiches with gravy and ketchup."

"I did not!"

"You did, too." Linda stopped at the living room door as the bags caught her eye. "My God, Mia, did you buy up the whole of England?"

Hermione laughed and pulled her aunt into the living room. "It wasn't my fault! I ran into Minerva, you remember, Professor McGonagall?" Her aunt nodded and she continued, "Well, she insisted on my buying everything that fit!"

"I like that hat," Linda said with a gleam in her eye. "Take it off."

"I thought you just said you liked it."

"I do, but the hair underneath it caught my eye. Let me see."

Hermione smiled and pulled off the hat, letting her aunt see the full effect of her day, and grinned. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you've been playing with magic again, because I know for a fact that your hair would never do that otherwise! Just look at my mop."

Hermione laughed and sat down beside Linda, making sure her eyes didn't stray to the horrible concoction her aunt was eating. It was a well-known fact that Hermione got her hair from her aunt, and both women hated the fact that it was so uncontrollable. Whilst neither woman was particularly vain, breaking brushes on a weekly basis began to get annoying after a while. Not to mention expensive.

"So, you all ready for work now?"

"I think so," Hermione said with a smile. "I can't believe I'm going to be working. Let alone at the school I grew up in."

"I'm so proud of you, Mia," Linda said, pulling her into a hug. "And your parents are too, I know it. They're watching over you and they're smiling."

Blinking back tears, Hermione hugged her aunt closer. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For looking after me. For moving in, even though Darren wants you to live with him. For putting your life on hold for me."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart, that's what family is for," Linda said with a soothing tone. "Besides, I'm refusing to move in with Darren on principle."

Hermione laughed. "You know he's completely clueless, not to mention hopeless. You might want to give him a hint."

"I've been hinting for months! Since before the little one appeared, even."

Hermione sat up and arched her eyebrows at Linda. "I was thinking of hinting more along the lines of booking the church, setting everything up and just telling him to be there. Darren won't get it otherwise!"

"No," Linda said stubbornly. "Until that man gets down on one knee and makes an honest woman out of me, I will not be budging."

Hermione laughed, but a moment later found herself yawning. "I think I'm going to get some sleep. I've got to get my class lessons prepared by the time I get to Hogwarts. I think Dumbledore would prefer them before that even. And after trailing round the shops, not only do I know I'll have sore legs tomorrow, I know I'll never go shopping with Minerva McGonagall again!"

Linda laughed and pecked her on the cheek. "Night."

"Good night."

Hermione excused herself and closed the door gently behind her, before hauling all her bags up the stairs. Not one for mess, she quickly put away all her new belongings in the trunk she had already begun to pack, only leaving out one outfit for the day she left. She changed, showered quickly and was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

xxxxx

"Now, you're sure you have everything?"

"Yes, Linda, I'm sure."

"I just don't want you popping in and scaring the living daylights out of me when you realise you forgot something."

Hermione laughed, remembering the one and only time she had ever Apparated when Linda was in. She had appeared right in front of her aunt, who had promptly fainted. "I promise I won't. If I've forgotten anything, I'll send Snowshine back for it. You remember how to use Owl post, right?"

"I remember."

Hermione glanced at Snowshine, who was asleep in her cage and smiled. The beautiful small-eared owl had been her parents' last gift to her. They had named it after the first animal Hermione had ever fallen in love with; a small cat she had found at the age of two, and unfortunately had been parted with the next day when its owners came looking for it.

Hermione had named the white cat Snowshine, not yet being old enough to understand what her parents meant when she asked, "If the sun shines, then why does the snow not?" She had later argued that the glare from the sun often caused the snow to shine, but either way, she had loved that cat, even though she had only had it for one night, just as she loved her owl.

"Okay, I had better get going," Hermione said, making sure that she had everything in her pockets. She had shrunk all her belongings apart from Snowshine, and everything she would have with her for the next year was currently residing in her pockets. "I don't want to be late."

"Hermione, you have ages yet, you won't be late."

"I know, but it's my first day," she argued, "I don't want to be even the slightest bit late."

Linda chuckled and shook her head. "Okay, Mia, have it your way." She pulled her niece into a hug, careful not to squash the large bump that had taken over her stomach.

"Take care, Linda, and I want to know the minute the little one even thinks about coming out. Okay?"

"Okay, I'll see you for Christmas?"

"I'll come back for a few days, if I can."

They stood in silence for a few moments, before Linda reached out to hold Hermione's arms. "I just want to say it once more. I am so proud of you, Hermione. You have become an amazing young woman and I am so proud of you, and I want you to know that your parents would be as well. I realise you know that, but sometimes it's easier to keep believing if someone else says it."

"Thank you," Hermione said in a whisper, not trusting herself to speak any louder. She gave Linda another quick hug before stepping back and picking up Snowshine's cage. "Bye!"

She closed her eyes and concentrated, and when she opened them again, she found herself standing on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. She took a deep breath and turned to look behind her, nervousness taking over her stomach as Hogwarts stood before her, a short distance away.

_Well, here I go!_

She set herself a steady pace and before she even realised she was nearing them, she had passed through the gates and was making her way up the path to the castle. It seemed so strange to be there when she knew it was all but deserted. She had stayed over holidays before, but it wasn't the same this time. She was no longer a student staying to be with her friends, she was there because she was a member of staff. She was a teacher.

She entered the building and almost screamed when someone was suddenly standing right in front of her. She took a few deep breaths and smiled in spite of herself. "I'm sorry, Professor, you startled me."

"Not a problem," the Astronomy teacher said with a light laugh. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I saw you approach and assumed you would be one of the new teachers. I'm the Astronomy Professor, Seriya Sinistra," the woman said, extending a hand, and Hermione stared at her incredulously.

"Er, it's nice to meet you." She paused for a moment, and decided to give the Professor a fright of her own. Minerva was rubbing off on her. "I'm the new Arithmancy Professor, Hermione Granger."

Hermione couldn't help the laugh that escaped when Professor Sinistra's eyes all but popped out of her head. The woman was scrutinising Hermione a way that would have had her squirming if not for the fact that she found the situation funny.

"My goodness, Miss Granger, I hardly recognised you. In fact, I didn't recognise you!"

"Please, call me Hermione."

Professor Sinistra smiled. "Of course, Hermione, but only if you return the favour."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Hermione said with a straight face. "If we were both called Hermione things might get a little confusing." Sinistra chuckled and Hermione groaned. "I'm sorry. I take after my dad I guess, when unsure of what to say, attempt humour and fail miserably."

Sinistra chuckled again and shook her head. "Would you like me to show you to your room?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor. I'd like to get settled in."

"It's Seriya, and no problem. I remember what it was like on my first day." The elder woman led her down the corridor and Hermione couldn't stop the slight ache in her heart when she realised they were heading in the opposite direction to Gryffindor Tower. She had known she wouldn't be staying there, but the fact that her room would be so far away hadn't really occurred to her.

"Here you are," Seriya said with a smile. "Your password is _'Eternity in an Hour' _and you change it the same way as you would have changed the Gryffindor password."

"William Blake," Hermione said with a smile as they entered the room. Sinistra looked at her with a puzzled expression and she explained. "He's a Muggle poet. _'To see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour.'_"

"That's nice," Seriya said with a smile. She glanced around the room before turning back to face Hermione. "As desperate as I am to hear how you managed to get your qualifications when you were supposed to be coming back into seventh year, I'm sure we'll be informed later. I'll leave you to settle in. Professor Dumbledore asks that the new teachers report to him before the staff meeting. I'm sure you remember the way. The new password is _Lisping Liquorice_."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. She knew that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was doing very well for itself, but she had no idea that Professor Dumbledore had tried anything. Now there was something to imagine, the Headmaster lisping his way through the welcoming speech.

She said goodbye to Professor Sinistra and turned to examine her room. Or rather, rooms. She was standing in the main room, which held a settee set, a large fire and a comfortable looking leather armchair. There was a desk at the back of the room next to the window, which was overlooking the lake, and there were a few scattered scenic pictures on the walls. Further exploration showed that the door to her left led to a small bathroom that was clearly for visitors to use, and the door to the right led into a rather large bedroom. There was another desk, a large double bed, a cupboard, a chest of drawers and, best of all, there was an en-suite. The smaller room had a sizeable bath, a shower and a toilet and Hermione wanted nothing more than to fill up a bubble bath and relax.

She was quick to settle in, unpacking and placing her photographs and ornaments in various places around the room. She removed the waterfall painting from above the fireplace, and replaced it with the Wizarding family photograph she had had in the main hallway of her home. On the opposite wall, a little to the left of the doorway to her room, she placed a large photograph of herself, Ron and Harry.

It had been taken last year, and Hermione remembered that day as the one fun time she had had away from study. It had been a hot, sunny afternoon. Ron had finally worn her down as much as her work had, and she agreed to go into Hogsmeade with them. They were all dressed in jeans and T-shirts, eating ice cream and trying to avoid the twins, who had been visiting a supplier in the area, throwing ice cream at them. Colin Creevey had managed to snap the photograph of the three of them, and Hermione had begged him to make a large print for her to frame. She had been sure the younger man had forgotten, until it had arrived neatly wrapped and framed on her bed on the last morning of school.

She took one last glance around her rooms and smiled. She felt so at home that it was hard to remember she had only arrived about an hour earlier. She took a deep breath and exited, making her way quickly to Dumbledore's office, announcing "_Lisping Liquorice_" with a slight giggle.

The doorway opened and she stood the stairs to the Headmaster's office. When they stopped at the top, she knocked lightly on the door, waiting anxiously for the Headmaster to answer. After a few moments, the door opened, and Professor Dumbledore smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.

"Ah, Professor Granger," he said, stepping aside to let her enter.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Hermione said, stepping inside.

Dumbledore chuckled a little. "It's lovely to see you. You are looking splendid. I'm glad you got my message, although I'm afraid you gave Seriya quite a scare."

Hermione laughed and sat down in the chair he indicated, waiting for him to sit opposite her in the other chair by the fire. "I didn't realise she hadn't recognised me, and when I did, well, I couldn't help myself."

"I think Minerva may be influencing you more than I had initially thought."

Hermione laughed again and settled back into the chair. She was quite comfortable speaking to Dumbledore, but she was aware that he had something to talk to her about, and from the look in his eyes, she knew it was something important.

"As you are aware, Professor, the transition from student to Professor is a difficult thing to come to terms with in and of itself. However, the transition taken early, while one's peers are to become the students, it is likely to be a great deal harder."

"I know," Hermione said with a sigh. "I have to admit, Advanced Arithmancy will be the worst. I don't doubt Dean will find it difficult having me as a teacher, but it's not him I perceive will be the problem."

"Young Master Malfoy," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes."

Dumbledore nodded and paused for a moment. "I would like to offer you advice, Hermione, but I feel that you are more than capable of handling this situation yourself. I will, however, say one thing, and that is: do not judge someone the same from above as you would were you at the same level, or below them."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't understand."

"First of all, Hermione, although I doubt it will happen any time soon, I would like to invite you to use my given name. We are now on the same level, after all." He paused again and Hermione smiled at him, catching his meaning.

"You want me to make sure that the prejudice I have for Malfoy doesn't interfere with the way I teach him."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Another thing to remember is that things are not always as they seem. Mr Malfoy may or may not be the villain you have always perceived him to be, but that does not mean that, as a student, he is not capable of being so much more."

"I understand, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled. "Whilst I used it as an example, Hermione, I did mean to invite you to use my name."

"And as you understood, that may take a while."

"Of course." Dumbledore leaned back slightly. "Are your rooms to your liking?"

"Very much." Hermione couldn't contain her grin. "I adore them. I will admit I'm a little sad to be so far away from Gryffindor Tower, but I love them."

"I am sure their proximity to the dungeons is less than desirable, but I felt they suited you best."

Hermione smiled. "I'll admit it will be strange, but I think I'll get on just fine."

"I don't doubt it, Professor." Dumbledore sat slightly forward again and Hermione frowned a little, wondering what was next. "Now, until this moment, I have urged you towards the utmost secrecy regarding your new position, however, seeing as the school year is to begin in a week, I would like to offer you the opportunity of coming to Grimmauld Place tomorrow evening. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley will be there, and I'm sure they would rather learn of this development from you yourself, and before they are faced with the reality of the situation."

"I can tell Harry and Ron?" Dumbledore smiled and nodded, and it was all Hermione could do to remain seated, and not jump up and give him a hug. "Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled and stood up, indicating that she should follow him. "I believe we are running slightly late, and while a slight lateness is desirable so that you are not answering the same questions over, we should get to the meeting."

They exited Dumbledore's office, and Hermione followed him through the halls, making sure to remember where they were going, so that she could find the staff room again. They soon arrived at a portrait of Isis, and Hermione couldn't help but take in the intricate detail of her scant clothing.

"Isis. Goddess of Protection and Magic," Hermione said with a smile. "It's a beautiful portrait. It doesn't move?"

"No," Dumbledore said with a smile. "This was painted by Isham Gregorio, a genius of art. He preferred his work to speak for itself."

"It's amazing."

"I rather like it myself."

Hermione smiled and watched as Dumbledore turned back to the painting. He reached a hand out and gently laid it upon the ring of magic by Isis' left hand, saying, "_Open Sesame_", and Hermione burst out laughing as the portrait transfigured into a door.

Dumbledore turned to her, his eyes bright with amusement. "Came up with that one myself."

Hermione continued to laugh as they entered the room, stopping only when she began to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of twelve pairs of eyes. She shifted slightly, before holding her chin up. She nodded to the staff, and wondered where Minerva was. She had been hoping for some moral support.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief as all attention was effectively removed from her. "I would like to introduce Professor Hermione Granger. I'm sure you all remember her."

There were some rather confused looks, but most of the staff were smiling at her, and she had to assume that Seriya had already informed them of her new position. As if to confirm that thought, the Astronomy teacher indicated the spare seat next to her, and Hermione sat down, smiling at her colleague.

_Maybe this won't be so hard after all,_ she thought with a smile. _I can do this, I know I can. And what's more,_ she thought, looking around her._ I don't think I'm the only one that thinks so._

xxxxx

Severus growled and shook his head, the wet tendrils of his hair spraying water all over the walls, but he didn't really care at that moment. He reached into the wall cabinet and pulled out his gel. He spread it thickly through his hair, and almost grimaced at the transformation it seemed to make. He wasn't a handsome man by a long shot, but having to play that up grated on his nerves. He wasn't the kind of man that people looked at twice if they could help it, and he hadn't been that kind of teenager either really. Well, not in the way of Potter, Black, Malfoy or Riddick. Where they had women looking back at them and swooning, he got women looking twice and thinking, 'hmmm, what a strange looking boy'. He had never been ugly, but he had never had that handsome ruggedness that the girls seemed to want.

He frowned at himself once more in the mirror, and then left the bathroom. He pulled on the clothes he had laid out for himself the night before, and dressed quickly, cursing as his gel went all over his clean robes. Once he had pulled on his robe, he approached the large stand-alone mirror by his bed and leaned over his bedside cabinet, picking up two small vials.

He wrinkled up his nose and pulled the cork out of the first one, swallowing the vile pink liquid as quickly as he could. He growled in pain as he felt his body realign itself; muscles shrinking, bones grinding against each other as they battled for room in his slowly thinning frame. A few moments later, he composed himself, forcing his heavy breathing into a slower, steadier pattern and opened the second vial. The putrid-smelling green liquid instantly assaulted his nose and he had to fight not to heave on the spot.

_If those little brats knew what I went through to keep them safe,_ he thought with a sneer._ It'd likely make no difference at all,_ he added.

He downed the green liquid in one gulp, resisting the urge to gag and bring it right back up again. He felt a searing pain across his face as the cartilage in his nose re-broke and aligned in the same way it had when it had been broken in his youth.

_So much for paying all that money to get it fixed when I left school. Damn Sirius Black anyway,_ he thought, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt he felt. He didn't like to curse at the dead, it was beneath him. However, for Sirius Black, he was willing to make that exception.

He glanced at the clock on his wall, frowning as it stated, 'You're late'. His transformation had taken longer than expected. He strode out of his rooms and down the hallway at a quick pace. He hated to be late for anything, unless, of course, it was his intention to be so. He glared at the irritating knight in the portrait as it jumped to life when he passed, aiming its foil at him. The pictures got extremely bored during the holidays, but Snape neither cared nor bothered to reply when one of them spoke to him.

"Severus!"

He rolled his eyes, but stopped to wait as Minerva caught up with him. "Good morning, Minerva," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Late again?"

"Oh, and I suppose you're just out for a stroll while the meeting gets started?"

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early," Snape said, starting to walk again. "He arrives precisely when he means to."

Minerva groaned and he smirked at her. "I think I regret lending you that. All it has served to do is give you ammunition against me," she said rolling her eyes.

"And we all know that's the only pleasure I have in life, so why not aid me?"

Minerva shook her head with a smile and took in his appearance. "I see the greasy git is back."

"And yet you're still talking to me, whatever is wrong with the world?" He shook his head. "Would you rather I introduced myself to the new teachers looking any different?"

"You're right, she might die of shock." Minerva snorted.

"You know something." He stopped walking and frowned at her. They were just outside the staff room.

"I know we'll be even later if you don't get a move on."

"Who is _she_?"

Minerva smirked. "You'll see."

"Minerva," he said warningly.

"Get a move on, Severus. I'll go in first to keep up appearances. See you in a minute." She turned her back on him and held her hand out to the painting of Isis, saying, "_Open Sesame_", and entered the staff room. He growled and followed after her, throwing open the door spectacularly only to have it hit him a moment later as he stood frozen in the doorway.

He didn't know what she'd done, but it was definitely her. There was no mistaking that voice. It was his worst nightmare and she was staring right at him, and what had she done to herself? She looked…no he wasn't even going to finish that thought. She was a child.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said with an annoying twinkle in his eyes that caused Snape to glare at him. "I believe you know Professor Granger."

_Professor? It's a conspiracy. Someone up there hates me._

"Please, Severus, take a seat," Dumbledore continued, and all he could do was obey. "We were just about to get started. First of all, I would like to introduce the new staff to you all. This is Tera Cleaver," he said, and a small wisp of a woman nodded at them, causing her short flighty hair to wave in the wind as if it were made of fluff. "She is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

_Oh, it's definitely a conspiracy,_ Severus thought angrily. _They won't give me the post because Voldemort will expect me to use it to his advantage, but they'll give it to a girl who looks like she'd wet her pants if she got anywhere near a fairy, never mind a werewolf or a Hymbree. _

"And I'm sure you are all aware of who Professor Granger is."

"Unfortunately," he couldn't help himself from muttering, but instantly regretted it as a pointy shoe made painful contact with his shin. Minerva had one hell of a kick.

"Due to the fact that she was little challenged by her work load, we have been helping Miss Granger over the last year to finish her studies early so that she may, in turn, help her students through teaching. As you are likely aware, Professor Vector will no longer be with us due to his allegiances."

Snape instantly realised that he had been kept in the dark for a long time. Since finding out and handing over the information that Vector was the inside leak within Hogwarts over a year ago, he had wondered what had been happening, as nothing seemed to have changed. It appeared now that he had been mistaken. Things had been changing, he was simply being left in the dark. Again. And now he had that annoying Granger girl in his face every day. Knowing his luck, she would have Vector's old rooms, placing her closer to his quarters than he was entirely comfortable with.

He glanced at the girl again, still rather struck by the difference her, now straight, hair made to her appearance. She had always looked like a little girl, despite the fact that she would be turning eighteen soon. The difference made by her new look, not to mention her form-hugging robes that Severus could make out despite the fact that she was sitting at the table, meant she looked more of a young woman than he would have ever given her credit for.

"I hope that you will make them both feel at home."

Severus rolled his eyes as he watched Charlie Weasley give the new Defence teacher a shy smile. The Weasleys really were a pathetic bunch, and the Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures Professor was just as bad as the rest of the pack.

"Now, on to business."

As Dumbledore explained his outline for the rest of the year, the layout of the new wards (no doubt there were others he wasn't disclosing in case there was another leak), extra protection for the younger years, more protective classes for the elder students, and new items on the dinner menu, Snape couldn't help but let his eyes wander over to the new Arithmancy teacher. He was in no doubt that there was more to her appointment than Dumbledore was letting on, but he knew that the Headmaster wouldn't let anyone in on anything until he wanted them to know. He only hoped he would find out soon.

He had watched the Granger girl closely over the last year, as they had all been asked to do. She had lost her parents, and while a lot of students had lived through the same circumstances, they had all reacted emotionally. Hermione Granger had not. She had simply thrown herself into her studies and he now knew why. He also knew that it hadn't been healthy for her. He had seen the effect with his own eyes.

He doubted that Granger even remembered, but he did. He had found her in an abandoned corridor on the fourth floor scratching her nails against the walls until they were raw and bleeding, crying so hard she could barely see or speak, crying so hard that she was dry retching. He had never particularly cared for the little Gryffindor know-it-all, but he had never wanted to see anyone in that kind of state, and he never wanted to again. She had all but attacked him when he had scooped down to pick her up, hurrying her to the Hospital Wing as fast as he could. He had even stayed to watch over her, although even he was at a loss to explain why.

She hadn't improved immediately, but spending Christmas with her aunt seemed to have done her the world of good, and she had arrived back at Hogwarts for another term of attempted suicide through work, but then that was typical Hermione Granger. He had never suspected that something of this magnitude had taken place. In the space of a year, she had completed the last two years of her education as well as gaining a teaching qualification in the difficult subject of Arithmancy. If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was, he was in awe of her.

The meeting continued for over an hour and Severus found himself paying attention very rarely, but he was good at multitasking; he would still remember everything that had been said, despite his lack of concentration. It was a helpful attribute to have as a Potions Master. He was able to fall into a dreamlike trance and still finish the most complicated potion to perfection. There were no complications in his life as far as potions were concerned, and nothing to upset his balance. It was exactly the way he liked it. Until of course, the inevitable would happen and the Mark on his arm would burn in calling.

He shrugged away thoughts of Voldemort, and decided to tune in again, only to find Dumbledore closing the meeting. He sat up straighter and waited for everyone to leave. Only everyone didn't leave. He found himself sitting with Dumbledore, Granger, and Minerva, and he was none too happy about it, unless the old bat decided to give him an explanation.

"Severus, Hermione, I would like for you both to come to my office this evening, there are a few things I wish to discuss with you. I believe some explanation is required on quite a few fronts. Minerva, I will not detain you tonight, you know all there is to know about what we are to discuss, and I would rather you continued your work with the extra wards."

Minerva nodded, and Severus allowed himself a moment of satisfaction that he had correctly figured a few things out. Whatever Dumbledore thought he was doing with Granger, however, Severus had no idea, and given that the old wizard was leaving, Severus figured he would have to wait until later to find out.

He stood up and made his way out of the staff room, intending to get back to his lesson plans. Although he had handed in a rough draft, he always perfected things down to the exact potions and quantities the students would be using. He was ever thankful that his photographic memory meant he did not have to carry lesson plans with him. He knew he could teach the exact same syllabus to his students every year, but he found no enjoyment in that. Besides, he knew the little buggers would simply ask the elder students for help; especially the snivelling little Gryffindors. He had no idea how that House would function without their brightest spark.

"Professor Snape."

_And speaking of…_ he thought with a groan. He turned around and glared at the girl, wishing she'd get rid of that new look of hers and go back to being that annoying little girl so that he wouldn't find her so…never mind.

"Yes, Miss Granger, can I help you?"

He knew he was patronising her, but he found the way her jaw clenched in anger so amusing, and he always had, so he baited her as often as possible. However, with her new hairstyle, the act seemed much more…adult than it ever had before.

"That's Professor Granger, thank you very much."

He couldn't help the smirk that graced his lips. He was actually impressed. He had half expected her to back off with a frightened look in her eyes, but she stayed exactly where she was. She even seemed to straighten up a little.

"I apologise, Professor," he said graciously, pleased when that caused more of the reaction he had expected previously. "Now, what can I do for you?" he continued, his normal tone returning full force.

She seemed confused by his slight and sudden switch in character, but to her credit, did not mention anything. She took a breath and nodded, implying that they should walk and talk, given that they were both headed in the same direction.

"I was hoping to talk to you about the Advanced Classes."

"I fail to see what you could wish to talk about considering we teach completely different subjects."

"Do we?"

The certain tone of her voice caused him to stop short. He was sure he let his sneering mask slip as she stared at him for a moment. It sounded like she was about to broach a subject that actually interested him, and he was curious as to why she would be doing so.

"Go on," he said, his curiosity getting the better of him. He began to walk again, but at a slower pace, and she kept time beside him.

"I want to assign a project to my advanced students," she began, and he couldn't help but be impressed at how easily the phrase 'my students' fell from her lips. One of the things he had decided right away was that she was likely to be unable to handle herself when placed with a class of her former peers. Perhaps he was mistaken.

"What kind of project could possibly involve me?"

"I'll get straight to the point, Professor, I want my class to write and design spells for a subject of their choosing. This spell should contain all seven of the set number structures as well as having a potion counterpart."

Severus was astounded. It was something he would have loved to have done during his own time at Hogwarts, to fully explore the complexities and similarities between Potions and Arithmancy, his two favourite subjects, and given the passion in her voice, he was sure Granger felt the same way.

"What makes you want to link the two subjects?" he asked, almost willing the answer to her.

"I didn't create the link, Professor Snape, it already exists. I simply want them to explore it."

"You agree that there is a link between our subjects?" he asked, making sure not to let his own enjoyment of the subject creep into his voice.

"Agree?" she asked with a small smile, and he instantly cursed himself for giving so much away. "That would imply that you hold the same opinion." He didn't grace her with an acknowledgement, so she continued. "Yes, I agree. The designing of potions and the understanding of how they work revolve around the same principles as designing and understanding a spell construction."

Severus nodded but said nothing further about her theory, and continued a separate line of questioning. "What makes you so sure that the miscreants we teach will have the capacity for understanding that is required in order to complete the project?"

The girl smirked and he frowned at her. "Anyone who can last through six years of Potions with you, and choose to do a seventh, all the while maintaining the grades to sit both Advanced Potions and Advanced Arithmancy have enough understanding," she finished, and he wasn't sure whether or not to take the comment as a compliment, so he simply glared at her.

She smirked at him and turned to her left, muttering her password and entering through the wall to her rooms.

_She's spending way too much time with Minerva._

xxxxx

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, and before he knew it, he found himself making his way to Professor Dumbledore's office. He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly tripped over Hermione Granger as she stepped out of her rooms. He growled at her, momentarily forgetting that she was now a Professor and almost yelling at her, deducting House points along the way.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor."

"Watch where you're going, child!" he ground out, still unable to shake the strange feeling that he was in the wrong.

It was clearly the wrong thing to say and he was most definitely in the wrong if her reaction was anything to go by. She pulled herself up straight and he could almost sense the magic in her as a tangible force as her anger buzzed around her.

"Do not patronise me, _Severus_," she said in a low tone. He was too shocked to think about apologising, and he wasn't given the chance to as she continued to speak. "I am not a child, and I would appreciate it if you would do me the same courtesy as you would every other colleague, and treat me with a little respect."

"Respect is to be earned, Professor Granger, not given freely. However," he continued, before she could interrupt, "I…apologise."

"Twice in one day, Professor?" she commented lightly, and he was stunned at how quickly her moods could change. "I think I've slipped into a parallel universe."

He tried to suppress the small smile he felt tugging at his lips, and he was sure he was mostly successful. He had no idea where this young woman had come from, because she certainly had not been in his class last year and, given his usual temperament, he doubted she would have lasted long had she been. His lack of scorn was surprising even him. He blamed it on his quiet summer but he had the feeling it would be back in place before the students arrived. And if it wasn't, all he would have to do was look at Potter and it would be back full force.

They walked to Dumbledore's office in silence and he uttered the password, still rather bitter about Dumbledore changing it to _that_. He doubted he would have minded if the old man hadn't decided to give him one of the joke sweets, but then he never really had had a sense of humour where ridicule was concerned.

"Ah, Severus, Hermione, you're just in time."

"In time for what?" Hermione asked, and Severus was pleased. He hated playing mind games with Dumbledore because, even when he won, he had the feeling that the old coot was laughing at him.

"For some tea and cakes."

For some reason, he found himself leaning closer to her and whispering rather loudly, "Don't touch the cakes, he buys them from those blasted Weasleys."

Her laughter was more feminine than he remembered, not that he had really ever heard her laugh before, but the effect was the same. He had no idea what was happening to him. He wasn't acting like himself. He was meant to scowl at her and sneer at her general existence. He was generally not a nice man. It had to be the hair.

They settled down in armchairs by the fire, and Severus helped himself to a cup of tea, watching with slight amusement as Granger inspected the cakes. He glanced at Dumbledore and the wizard smiled at him, amusement peeking out behind his glasses. Severus rolled his eyes and waited for Granger and the Headmaster to settle themselves.

"I feel little need for idle chat, and I have some business to attend to later, therefore I will get straight to the point." Severus and Hermione exchanged glances and, although he was making the effort to hide his emotions, as always, he sensed that she knew he was intrigued, just as he could tell she was.

_Don't tell me he hasn't even told _her_ the reasons behind all this,_ Severus thought with a hint of impatience. _Sometimes that old man goes too far. _

"Hermione, as you are aware, I made you the offer during the summer of last year to complete your studies early and come to Hogwarts as a teacher." Hermione nodded and Dumbledore continued. "What you are not aware of is the reason I chose to make this offer. First of all, I wish to apologise for taking advantage of the unfortunate circumstances of your parents' death in proposing the idea to you. I will not lie and tell you that I was not bargaining on you channelling your pain into learning, because I was."

Snape watched as Hermione bristled, and he narrowed his eyes slightly at the Headmaster. The man was no saint by a long shot, despite what his pupils tended to believe, but Snape hadn't expected this, and clearly, Granger hadn't either.

"We needed you to agree, and I took advantage of your pain to get you to do so, but before you get angry at me, Professor Granger, please listen to my reasoning." He paused, and Hermione nodded slightly. "There are two main reasons I had for making the decision I did. First of all, Professor Snape had informed me that my Arithmancy Professor had taken the Dark Mark without my knowledge, and had been leaking information to Voldemort for a long time."

It was nothing that either of them didn't already know, but he had to credit her. While he was cursing Dumbledore for mentioning his part in things so openly to her, he was impressed that she didn't react to it, or the mention of Voldemort's name.

_Probably due to the idiocy of Potter. He's dragged her into the thick of things so many times, she's immune to the fear of His name. _

After a few more moments of silence, Hermione nodded. "Go on."

"The second reason is the most important. Hermione, have you ever heard the term _Hermanté_ before?"

Snape almost dropped his cup. As it was, he felt a few drops of scalding hot tea hitting the top of his thighs, but he didn't react to it. He was too shocked.

"I think so," Hermione said, glancing at Snape. "_Hermanté_ are legendary seers, but more than that, they are emotion witches. A _Hermanté _can sense a person's aura and manipulate the energies around that person. She can cast her mind into the future and foretell what will come to be, through the choices that people make. Choices are based on emotions, and because _Hermanté_ can read emotions, this allows more accuracy in their readings of the future.

"Hermanté was the name of the first, and worst, of her kind. At least, she's the first person to be documented. She was meant to be the most powerful of all. She used her seeing abilities and manipulated them along with the energies of her worst enemy. She cast into his mind and destroyed him from inside his own head. She played with his senses and warped his sense of reality."

Dumbledore nodded and Hermione took a deep breath. "What has this got to do with me?"

Snape glanced back at her, knowing that a part of her must have made the same link he had. Although he desperately hoped he was wrong. While he knew the basis of the _Hermanté_, he was by no means an expert on the subject. However, what with his slight knowledge of the subject, the thought that Hermione Granger, of all people, could be one of the legendary seers didn't fill him with a lot of hope.

"_Hermanté_ is magic, Hermione. She is the sense and the sight of magic. Yes, she can manipulate it and bend it to her will, but only she who truly understands it can wield its greatest power."

"That's nice," Hermione said, and Severus could hear a slight hysterical panic hiding behind her voice. "But I ask again. What does this have to do with me?"

"The last documented _Hermanté_, Maria Olena, left behind a prophecy in her memoirs. '_In the future, in times to come, when the dreaded skull grips the hearts of the many, a power shall arise like no other. Two opposites of morality linked together by fate will fight to the end, where only one shall survive. Within this great battle I place my power. I will hand it down to the next rightful child, and when she is of age she will help whom she chooses, but be wary of the power I charge. Anger will cloud and Passion will interfere, and if her choice is not true, Death will become all.'_"

"How cheerful," Severus said without thinking. He glanced at Hermione, who seemed briefly amused, and he couldn't help returning it with a slight twitch of his mouth.

"What makes you so sure it's me?" she asked finally. "I mean, I assume that's what this is all about. You're assuming it's me."

"Yes, Hermione, I believe it is you," Dumbledore clarified, and Snape resisted the urge to groan. "That was not the only prophecy. About six years ago, another seer, a young woman who showed much promise, despite her eccentric and fickle ways, foretold that the woman that Maria Olena speaks of would be at the heart of the battle for years before her time, bound by a friendship of three. She foretold the woman would be struck by a great tragedy before her coming of age. She would be marked by nail and stone and touched by the desires for both sides."

"Oh." Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "Who was she? This seer?"

"Her name was Bertha Jorkins."

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He understood the secrecy now. He understood why the death of Hermione's parents had not been common knowledge and why Dumbledore had felt the need to keep it that way. He understood why the young woman before him was put through everything. Hermione would be 'touched by the desire for both sides', which meant Voldemort could tempt her if he knew who she was. His attack on Hermione's parents proved one thing. Bertha Jorkins had been more useful to Voldemort than any of them had ever known. He knew what Hermione was, or rather, he knew what she could become.

xxxxx

**TBC…**

**Note:** Heliona was curious when she was read and pointed out that a few of you might be as well. A Hymbree is a creature of my own making, and it will come into the story a little later on. So those of you that were planning on looking it up somewhere, you'll be hard pressed to find it!


	2. To Live and to Learn

**Note:** To the anonymous reviewer on for chapter one. Really wish you'd left an email address, but either way, this chapter addresses the issues you had relating to Hermione's appointment as a teacher. The start of this chapter was written before I posted chapter one, and was always intended to relate to the problems of her becoming a teacher. The main reason they are not in chapter one is that I felt it was too much all at once. So, to all readers who may have issues with her being accepted so readily, this should ease your worries.

_Both Heliona and Beluah Page have now betad this chapter._

xxxxx

**Part Two: To Live and to Learn**

xxxxx

Hermione sighed and rolled over, glancing at the digital clock by her bed. It was four-thirty in the morning and yet sleep was evading her. Perhaps the fact that she had fallen into bed around ten o'clock and instantly fallen into a dreamless sleep had something to do with it.

Dumbledore's news had not come as a complete surprise, which, in itself, she conceded, should have been reason enough for shock to hit her. The only thing that seemed to be clear, the only fact that she was concentrating on, was that her Headmaster had not only lied to her, but he had manipulated her.

She was by no means under the impression that Dumbledore was perfect and omnipotent, but she had always granted him the courtesy of assuming that he knew what to do for the best, despite his lack of truthfulness to Harry in their fifth year. It seemed now that she was wrong. Whilst Dumbledore clearly stood by his decision and still believed it to have been for the best, Hermione had fumed in silence, not really trusting herself to speak much for the rest of the meeting. Snape, to his credit, had remained quiet and his face, while not friendly or sympathetic in the least, had not been sending cursory glares in her direction.

With her thoughts once more in disarray, Hermione realised that attempting to sleep again was futile, and rolled out of bed, pulling on her night-gown to ward off the persistent cold of the castle. It was not yet late enough for the house-elves to have started her fire, and she could almost see her breath as she padded into the bathroom.

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to indulge in the bubble bath she had promised herself on arrival, she turned on the taps and added a generous amount of the lavender-scented aromatherapy bubble bath Linda had given her as part of her last birthday present. She rarely got the chance to use it, but she loved the scent. The smell filled the air instantly, and Hermione smiled as the steam warmed her considerably, stripping off and entering the tub.

She could feel the water coursing around her, a little too hot perhaps, but she didn't care. She had always, for as long as she could remember, loved to get into the bath before she stopped running the water. There was something about the feel of it rushing by her and heating her up on cold mornings that she had never been able to explain, but she loved it none the less.

Before the water got too deep and the bubbles got out of hand, Hermione stopped the taps with a flick of her wrist and settled back, allowing the steam and the smell to relax her in a way that her sleep had not. She closed her eyes and refused to let her thoughts drag her into more melancholy hypotheses, and instead focussed on what exactly she was going to tell Ron and Harry that night.

Whilst she had no misconceptions as to how hard it would be to make the transition to being a teacher, she knew that her hope about her friends' reactions was entirely based on wishful thinking. She knew Ron and Harry like the back of her hands, and she also knew Ginny fairly well. She knew they would all likely be delighted for her, although hurt that she had hid it from them, the thing she was most worried about was the way they would treat her now. She had the feeling that they would try to treat her exactly the same way they always had, and that that was not an option.

After the staff meeting the night before, Charlie Weasley had arrived at her rooms with a smile and a hug, congratulating her on her successes, but the resulting conversation had been a bit of a leveller. Charlie was relatively new to the position; he had arrived the previous year. It had been a dream come true for Ron to have one of his brothers in the school, there to cheer him on in his Quidditch matches and help when he needed it. However, what her friend had failed to realise was that Charlie would be treating him exactly the same way he treated all the students.

The resulting row had been long and had taken a while to resolve, before Ron had finally conceded that Charlie couldn't show favouritism to him. But the rift had taken time to heal, and that was what Charlie had wanted to talk about. Ron.

Harry, although she knew he would find it hard, would be unlikely to react that badly to her new position of authority over him, but Ron would, undeniably trying to treat her the same way he always had. When the truth hit him, she had the feeling she would be on the receiving end of the Weasley temper. It certainly wouldn't help that they had tentatively attempted to start a romantic involvement at the start of the holidays, before her parents had been killed. That had been the deciding factor, but Hermione knew that there would never have been anything lasting between them. She only hoped that Ron had reached that conclusion as well. The last thing she needed was to add student/teacher relationships to her 'Issues I'll Have This Year' box.

By the time she had stopped addressing her thoughts, Hermione realised that, not only was the water cold, but her skin was wrinkled and the small noises coming from her room were from the fire. Evidently the house-elves were up and about, and that meant that the morning was approaching.

Hermione quickly dried and dressed, opting for a quick drying spell before she attempted to tackle her hair. It was one thing to complain about having to sit still while someone else fixed it, but actually doing it for herself had proven to be worse. No matter how hard she tried, it still took her at least twenty minutes after applying various gels and creams to achieve the look that the hairdresser had taken less than five to perfect. At least it was shorter than it had been, and there was less of it to tame.

She had spent money on makeup, but she doubted she would ever go through the rigorous routine of applying everything on a daily basis. She had opted for moisturising her skin and adding a little foundation, some mascara and eyeliner, and a little lip-gloss. There seemed to be no reason for her to do so, and whilst she had always seen it as a pointless act, she somehow appreciated the different feel it gave her to wear makeup. A little like when she was wearing heels, which admittedly wasn't often, she felt her hips automatically swaying; when she wore makeup and straightened her hair, she found she was given that slight bit more confidence to both keep her head up, and her attitude in general. She really saw little other explanation to her reactions to Snape the previous evening.

_Whatever possessed me to speak to him like that?_ she wondered idly, and with slightly more awe and amusement than was really wise where the Potions Master was concerned. _I half expected him to take House points, and if him grinding his teeth was any indication, he wanted to do just that. I can't believe I called him Severus!_

She was still unsure why Minerva seemed to have such a close relationship with the man, when it had always been blatantly obvious that the two hated each other. Yet, over the last year, during her training for her Apparition exam, and her advanced schooling, her time with Minerva had shown that the Professors perhaps got on a little better than they let everyone believe.

Not willing herself to be swept up in speculation any longer, Hermione took one last, satisfied look at herself in the mirror, and left her rooms. She instantly headed for her place of sanctuary, and entered the library a few minutes later.

_That's one thing to be said for the location of my new rooms,_ she thought with a smile. _I won't have to worry about getting to the library in a hurry, it's right round the corner._

Still a little cautious, despite the fact that her new station in the school gave her the right to be there, Hermione gave a glance around the room, checking to see if Madam Pince was present. Finding no sign of the woman, Hermione made her way to the section at the far wall, remembering the book she had found her previous information in. She searched for a few moments before finding it, and settled into the large armchair by the window, opening the book to the page on magical anomalies.

Not quite sure she appreciated being categorised as a 'magical anomaly', Hermione began to read about _Hermanté_, but quickly found that she had previously read everything that particular book had to offer. She spent the next few hours searching through all the books she thought might be helpful, and even some that she knew would not be, hoping, in vain, to find something.

A grumble in her stomach was the first thing that alerted her to the fact that she had spent a long time in the library, and a glance out of the window informed her that she had been correct in her assessment. She let out a defeated sigh and placed the books she was currently holding back in their original place.

Resigning herself to returning later, she left the library and made her way to the Great Hall, in the hopes that it wasn't still too early or even too late for her to get some breakfast. Hearing some voices she slowed her swift walk, and identified three of the Professors in a heated discussion. She wasn't sure that she wanted to eavesdrop, but neither did she want to burst past them, and it was the only way to get the Great Hall without a large detour.

She identified the speakers as Sinistra, Sprout, and Hooch. Deciding to chance her luck and pass them by, Hermione began to walk again, only stopping when she heard her name. She froze. She didn't want to listen to what they might say, but she was filled with an insatiable curiosity.

"…can't understand it."

"It's out of order, is what it is," she heard Hooch saying in a rather angry tone. "She has no right to be here."

"Hermione Granger is an incredibly talented witch," Seriya said in her defence. "She's an intelligent and wise child."

"Exactly!" Sprout exclaimed. "She's a child. She has no right to be here without proper study and life experience. She should be back in the classroom as a student this year, finishing off her studies and her childhood at the normal rate. She's not old enough to be treated as an adult yet."

"Precisely," Hooch continued, and Hermione would have fled by that point if her feet had been co-operating. As it was, she was desperately trying to remember how to breathe in order to stop herself from bursting into tears. "I'm not denying the girl has talent and intelligence, Seriya, despite her questionable ability with a broomstick, but Albus has clearly gone mad if he expects us to accept her as an adult and a colleague."

"And if this is our reaction, just imagine what she will receive from the student body," Sprout said with a sigh.

"I don't doubt it will be difficult, Pomona, but I think Miss Granger is here for a reason. She clearly has the intelligence to be here, and I think she's strong enough to get past the treatment of her peers."

"I wish I could agree, Seriya, but I can't."

At Sprout's final statement, Hermione swivelled on the balls of her feet, intending to head directly back to her rooms for a good cry. Unfortunately, she walked squarely into a rather hard chest and was sent sprawling to the floor.

"Professor Granger, it would be wise to attempt to retain a little grace now that you are a teacher," Snape sneered at her. She was aware that he seemed to have spoken rather loudly, and the scuffling of feet coming from the direction the other Professors had been confirmed that.

Hermione scrambled to her feet and dusted off her robes. "My apologies, Professor, I was a little distracted."

"Indeed."

Snape didn't wait for anything further, instead continuing his quick stride in the direction of the Great Hall, and Hermione decided that, having been spotted already, it would be wise for her to follow. Despite his predictable reaction to her, she had seen the acknowledgement in his eyes. Although unsure of how long he had been standing behind her, she knew that he had heard the conversation that was taking place, or at least some of it, and that implied that his wording and volume had been chosen for a specific purpose. However, at that moment in time she refused to analyse anything further. Not Snape, not Seriya, Hooch, or Sprout. She wanted to blank her mind and pretend that everything was all right.

When she entered the hall, she discovered, to her dismay, that the table was set as it was during most holidays; in other words, it was set in such a way that, instead of sitting in a long row next to each other, those present sat around a table. As Hermione got closer to the table, she quickly assessed that the only space left, although between Minerva and Seriya, was opposite Hooch, Sprout, and Snape. Not a choice she would have made herself, but she refused to acknowledge that she had heard anything, and sat down, instantly filling up her plate.

"Good morning, Hermione," Minerva greeted with a smile, and she tried to return it as best she could. The other Professor frowned slightly, but didn't question her, instead sticking to the mundane. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not really," Hermione answered truthfully. "I think I went to bed too early, I've been up since about four." Minerva grimaced and Hermione gave a slight chuckle, remembering how her early morning tutoring sessions had usually begun; coffee, cursing, and the occasional clipped comment. Minerva was most definitely not a morning person.

"Well, you'll get into a routine when the students arrive, I'm sure. It's gruelling work, and you'll handle it, but you'll want to spend all morning in your bed just to escape sometimes."

Hermione smiled, and couldn't help glancing across the table at that moment. Sprout looked embarrassed and refused to meet her gaze, whereas Hooch was regarding her with a frown. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, so she shifted her gaze to Seriya, hoping to engage the woman in conversation. Although Seriya had been involved in the earlier dispute that Hermione had overheard, she had been defending her, and Hermione wanted to let the woman know that she appreciated that, even if she refused to acknowledge that it had happened at all.

"How is the project coming along?" she asked, breaking the Astronomy teacher's silent reverie.

The woman smiled, almost apologetically, before she answered. "Slowly. I'm still not sure that it's my wisest decision, but Firenze assured me that he would guarantee our protection during the excursions."

Hermione smiled wistfully. "I'm rather sad I'll miss out on it."

"You're more than welcome, Hermione," Seriya said with a wide grin. "It might even be helpful to have an extra Professor along, given the teenage tendency to wander off into danger. Some teenagers in particular," she finished with a laugh.

Hermione smiled, knowing exactly which teenagers she was referring to. She was glad no one had interrupted with the obvious statement that Hermione herself was still a teenager, as she wasn't sure that she could handle it after what she had just overheard, but she saw a flicker in Hooch's eyes, and even Snape quirked an eyebrow. Although, to be honest, Snape seemed more amused than anything else, which surprised her. Humour wasn't something she had ever really associated with Snape, and yet she was convinced that was precisely the case. Sardonic humour, without a doubt, and she would have expected nothing less from the man with the reputation for eating small children in his spare time, but it was definitely there.

Turning her attention away from the Potions Master, she realised that she had been addressed, and turned to Dumbledore, a little surprised. "I'm sorry, Professor, I was miles away."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Of course. I was wondering if you required any help with the classroom, as now would, without doubt, be the best time to enlist it."

"I'm not really sure," Hermione began. "I hadn't really thought to explore it yet. I think I'll take a look this afternoon and decide what needs to be done."

"Of course."

Madam Pince nodded at her, motioning that she had something to say, but clearly not wanting to do so through a mouthful of bacon and scrambled egg. Hermione smiled and waited for the woman to finish eating.

"Sorry," Pince began with a smile. "I just wanted to let you know that the books you requested should arrive either this afternoon or tomorrow morning."

"Excellent!" Hermione felt her spirits rising. If there was one thing that always served to cheer her up, a new book was definitely it. "I was hoping they would arrive before the term began, I want to start with them."

"Surely you don't expect the entire school to share one copy of each book?" Madam Pince interrupted.

"Of course not!" Hermione said with a smile, refusing to react to the fact that her conversation was garnering most of the attention of the table. "The three books I ordered are much too comprehensive for any of the younger classes, and I only wish to teach certain aspects to the advanced class. They might come in useful for some of the projects, however I doubt there will be a rush to borrow them."

Minerva chuckled. "Unless of course they decide to take after yourself, you mean."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I highly doubt it," she said at the same time Snape muttered, "I certainly hope not."

She glanced at him and was sure she detected the same trace of humour in his eyes. She laughed in spite of herself, and that was clearly not the expected response. Snape's eyebrows rose slightly, Seriya didn't seem sure how to react, Pince looked as though she thought Hermione had gone mad, and Hooch looked outright shocked.

She didn't comment any further, instead setting on her breakfast with a speed she usually only associated with Ron. She hadn't realised she was that hungry, but her stomach knew best and she followed its orders.

She wolfed down her breakfast and quickly dismissed herself, leaving before anyone, including Snape, had cleared their plates. She made her way back to her rooms, pushing all thoughts of the opinions of her colleagues to the back of her mind, along with those of _Hermanté_,and quickly changed into a pair of old jeans and a faded Elvis Presley T-shirt that had belonged to her father.

Hermione clearly remembered the dusty classroom she had spent a lot of her time in since her third year, and if there was one thing she wanted to change, it was that. There was nothing she could think of that would annoy her more than teaching in a stuffy classroom filled with dirt and dust. Well, she conceded, there were a few other things, but they were all clearly labelled, 'Do Not Think About Until Later', so she did just that.

Making her way through Hogwarts' corridors, Hermione reached her classroom after only a five-minute walk, and was instantly grateful that her rooms were closer than Gryffindor Tower had ever been. That walk was certainly something she would not miss.

She flicked her wand and muttered '_Lumos_', disheartened by the fact that the room seemed even worse than she remembered it. The windows were filthy, hence why she had had to light her wand, despite the fact that it was not even noon yet; the floor and shelves were covered in a layer of dust that was so visible it was causing her nose to itch just by looking at it; and there was an abundance of cobwebs covering the walls and completely obscuring the ceiling. It was, in short, a complete mess, and Hermione was not looking forward to tackling it.

"Should have taken that offer of enlisting help," she muttered to herself, knowing that whilst it made sense, the idea of asking for help was not appealing. After realising that there were fewer people on her side that she had originally thought, she knew she would have to work harder in order to prove herself.

"Not that you haven't spent your whole life doing that already," she said with a sigh.

"Talking to yourself, Professor?"

The sarcastic voice penetrated her thoughts and she jumped a little as she turned to face Professor Snape. He was standing in her doorway glancing around the room with an obvious air of displeasure, and Hermione could hardly blame him. She didn't much want to look at it herself.

"Lovely, isn't it?" she said sarcastically, and Snape's mouth twitched a little. She sighed and turned around in a circle. "It shouldn't take that long, I guess, a few days maybe. I have no idea how it managed to get this bad."

"Simple," Snape said, as if that one word should clarify everything. When Hermione looked at him and raised her eyebrows, however, he continued, "The house-elves will not come near this place, as instructed by the previous owner."

"Professor Vector told them _not_ to tidy this place?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"John-Paul Vector was not a particularly tidy man. His knowledge of Arithmancy was limited at best, and his lack of personal hygiene and tidiness was an aggravation to the entire staff."

The immature part of Hermione that rested deep within her (her inner Ron, she preferred to think of it) desperately wanted to comment on Snape's own seeming lack of hygiene, but she held her tongue. There was just something in the way Snape had seemed to be disgusted by Vector's personal standards that made Hermione think that perhaps his own were impeccable, despite the evidence to the contrary.

As for the comment on Vector's ability with Arithmancy, she had no intention of standing up for the man that had willingly joined Voldemort's ranks. Despite her admiration for Vector's Arithmancy skills, she knew what Snape was talking about. Vector had very clear lines and structures within his classes and his knowledge, and the idea of links between arithmancy and anything, let alone potions, was something he would not concede.

"Well, either way, it's my problem now."

"Then I shall not detain you any longer."

Snape turned to exit, and Hermione frowned. He was holding something in his hand, but his robes made it difficult for her to make out what it was. "Was there anything you wanted, Professor?" she asked, aware that, although their classrooms were close, he was a little out of his way. "If there was something you needed, I'm sure I can handle leaving this alone for as long as possible."

Snape turned to face her again, a smirk on his lips. "As sure as I am that you would rather not tackle this particular problem, Professor, I think that perhaps it would be best to start as soon as possible." Snape took a few steps closer and held out the object. "This book is from my private collection, it is a rare edition, and would be rather difficult for you to find. It would be wise for you to read it."

Hermione frowned and took the book, squinting in the low light in order to read the title. She smiled as the gold swirls focussed and the words, "_Hermanté: An Inside Study of the Gifted Few. The diary of Hermanté and her successors,_" became visible.

"Thank you, Professor," she said breathily. She looked up at Snape with a large smile and nodded her head a little. "I spent this morning perusing the library with no success. This is exactly what I was looking for."

Snape nodded and offered a slight twitch to his mouth that, Hermione assumed, was supposed to be a smile. She looked back down at the book and started to open it when it was snatched from her grasp.

"The reason, Professor Granger, that I was taking the book with me when I left was that I don't believe you should be distracted from your current task."

With a hint of annoyance, Hermione placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "I am quite aware, Professor Snape, that this classroom needs to be tidied. I was simply taking a look at the contents page."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And when have you, Miss Granger, ever simply opened a book with the intent of reading only the contents, and been able to do just that?" Hermione opened her mouth a few times, but didn't actually say anything and Snape smirked. "My point exactly."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face. "Honestly, Professor, you're as bad as Ron and Harry." She forced herself to remain sober and not allow any hint of laughter to escape, but the look of horror on Snape's face quickly became too much and she started to chuckle. "I'm sorry, Professor, I couldn't help it."

"Please try."

Hermione smiled apologetically, but she had no doubt that Snape realised she was not sorry in the slightest. Snape glanced around the room, and Hermione, in turn, glanced at him. She couldn't help but look him up and down, wondering what it was exactly that was so different about him. There was no doubt that he was treating her differently, something she was eternally grateful for. She knew that, along with Hooch's, Sprout's and, no doubt, some of the other teachers' negative opinions, she couldn't cope with him being nasty to her as well. He wasn't exactly nice, but he seemed to be treating her with a kind of cold acceptance.

"When you've quite finished staring at me, Professor," he started, shaking her out of her observations and causing a slight blush to taint her cheeks, "perhaps it would be prudent to begin."

Hermione nodded rather glumly and sighed. She turned around to face the windows, deciding to tackle them first, and held up her wand, muttering a cleaning charm. The windows were soon clean of dirt, but there were visible streaks, as if a particularly bad window washer had washed them. She grunted and held up her wand again, but before she could say anything, she heard a muttered word beside her, and the windows instantly sparkled clean.

She turned, rather shocked, to see Professor Snape standing beside her. She hadn't heard him leaving, but she had assumed he had done just that, therefore seeing him standing beside her, wearing black trousers and a loose fitting white shirt, utterly bewildered her. His robes lay over one of the tables, which, she noted, had been cleaned, and the book lay on top of them, the delicate pages protected from falling to the floor by the surrounding softness of his robes.

"I wasn't expecting your help."

"Perhaps, but you are clearly in need of it," he said with a sneer. Hermione, however, smiled. Whilst the look was there, there was no venom in his voice, simply matter-of-factness. The room was a mess and she did need help. He understood that and, without actually offering to help her, he was doing just that. Knowing that a thank you would be rather out of place, seeing as he had not vocally volunteered, as such, and also because she rather suspected that Snape found it difficult to accept thanks, she simply nodded.

They worked throughout the morning and afternoon, stopping only briefly to accept lunch from the house-elves (no doubt Dumbledore had asked them to bring some food for the two Professors), and by around five o'clock the room was completely spotless. The roof, it seemed, was actually rather extravagant, and, despite having to evict dozens of unhappy spiders, Hermione was extremely pleased with the results. The coving of the roof was a deep mahogany; cleared of the scratches and scores thanks to a spell she had learned recently. The roof itself was an intricate design of wooden patterns that, after a few moments of study, appeared to be the layout of the thirteen main numerical diagrams.

"Fascinating," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. The companionable silence had almost led her to believe she was working alone at times.

"Indeed."

The soft voice beside her ear startled her, and she glanced out of the corner of her eyes to see Snape's profile alongside her. She didn't turn her head for fear of surprising him into moving, although she was unsure as to why she wanted him to remain where he was. She deduced that it had something to do with her mostly isolated two years. Whilst she had had Harry and Ron throughout the school year, due to the fact that she had lived every day twice, it was as if they had only been with her every other day, and even then she was immersed in her work.

Throughout the summer she had, of course, had Linda's companionship, as well as Darren's on occasion. She had continued her instruction with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, as well as her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes with Remus. Although Remus didn't know why she was learning everything, she had grown close to the man. The fact that he lived nearby, coupled with Linda's need to cook him dinner (and burn it, resulting in Remus cooking, or them ordering a take-away), meant that she had seen a lot of him during the summer.

Since passing her exams her tutoring had finished and her only companion had been Linda, Remus having been called away often on Order business. She knew she could have visited Ron, Harry, and Ginny, but she hadn't felt that she could lie to them face to face anymore. It had resulted in a rather lonely few weeks.

Those thoughts brought her back to the present and the fact that she currently found herself seeking companionship, although perhaps that was far too strong a word, from the one man that had tormented her school learning for the last eight years…she really hated Time-Turners.

"What, may I ask, is it that you find so inspiring, Miss Granger, that you feel the need to inspect my face?"

"Sorry, Professor, I'm a little tired, I guess."

"Whilst I fail to see the connection between your exhaustion and my features, I will suggest, perhaps, that you retire until dinner this evening."

"I think I will."

They stood up from their perched positions on the desk, and Hermione wasn't sure why she was disappointed when he threw his robes back on. She didn't pick up the book herself, but waited for him to hand it to her.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely smiling at the man. "For the book and your help today."

Snape nodded and they walked out of the classroom together. They made their way back through the school towards their rooms, although, this time, they reached Snape's first. Like her own rooms, Snape's were not hidden behind a portrait, but a wall that shifted aside when he muttered his password.

Hermione continued, thoughts of her bed seeming more and more welcoming as her lack of sleep that morning finally caught up with her. She was just entering the sanctuary of her rooms when a high-pitched voice called out her name.

Resisting the urge to groan, she turned to face the small Charms Professor as he reached her room. She smiled at him and indicated that he should enter. A few moments later, she was having tea as Professor Flitwick surveyed his surroundings.

"I must say, Professor Granger, that you've made this room look a lot nicer and a great deal more welcoming than its previous owner did."

"Thank you."

Flitwick seemed to regard her rather nervously for a moment before he sighed and placed his cup on the small table beside him. "I will admit that I'm not entirely sure where to begin."

Hermione nodded, but didn't smile, still not sure where the conversation was about to head. Flitwick seemed to notice, but did not comment.

"I think that it is essential that colleagues understand each other, even if they do not particularly like each other, or get on at all. However, I have always found you to be an extraordinary student, and a delight to talk to, so I perceive no problem in us building a good relationship as colleagues."

At that Hermione did smile. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick."

"Please, Hermione, call me Filius."

Hermione nodded and he continued, however, there was a distinct difference to his tone. "The other reason I am here is to explain that the conversation you overheard this morning is not likely to be an isolated incident." He waited for Hermione to comment, but she didn't. "Many of the staff are more than happy to have you here, my dear, but you have to understand that we, each of us, have spent a long time learning our crafts and living our lives. We each have experience and wisdom that cannot be taught in the classroom. Whilst your academic achievements are exemplary, Hermione, you have no real life experience.

"It is this that will separate you from some of the Professors. No-one means any harm, Hermione; their opinions are simply that, their opinions. They will in no way be shown in front of the student body or, indeed, yourself on most occasions, but it is important that you are aware that they exist. We, as an entire staff will stand together by all means, so you must not take it personally that not everyone is welcoming you."

Hermione nodded slowly and placed her cup on the table by her chair. "Professor - Filius, I understand that. Despite my love for reading, I know that not everything can be taught from books. I understand that I have nowhere near the life experience of the rest of the staff, and whilst I understand and, in some ways, agree with that, what they are failing to take into account is what I _have_ lived through. I'm not saying that I'm well versed in the ways of life, but I have lived through this war as one of Harry Potter's best friends, and I will remain involved until it ends or I do.

"In their opinions, I may not be older and wiser than any other seventh year, but the truth is, I am ready for this. It won't be easy, I'm not going to fool myself, but please be aware that I will succeed in this, and their opinions will not stop that."

"Wonderful!" Filius' face broke out into a smile and Hermione was momentarily stunned. "That's precisely what I said you'd say. I know you'll be a wonderful teacher, Hermione. Please don't hesitate to ask me for anything." Filius hopped off the chair and walked quickly to the door. "Now, my dear, we'd best head to dinner."

Glancing at the clock before following him out the door, Hermione was distressed to see that it was, indeed, dinnertime. Sighing with resignation, she and Filius made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione longing for her bed, and wondering whether or not all her teachers suffered from sudden mood swings. And whether or not it was catching.

xxxxx

Severus leaned closer to the bubbling brew and carefully added a pinch of cinnamon. The potion instantly turned a vivid purple. He stood up, cracking his spine back into place and sighing. He had been worried that he had missed the correct time to add the final ingredients given that he had spent the afternoon helping Granger sort out her classroom. He had, in truth, completely forgotten about the potion.

He was glad that Granger seemed to dislike interruption for pointless conversation and had, instead, allowed them to work the day mostly in silence; otherwise Severus knew he would not have stayed. As it was, he had stayed far longer than he had anticipated, hence why he was having to finish his potions before he could head to the Great Hall for dinner. Under normal circumstances he would simply miss dinner and have the house-elves bring him something, however, Dumbledore had requested his presence at Grimmauld Place afterwards.

He growled a little at the thought that Sirius Black was still haunting him, despite his deceased state.Unfortunately, Severus was more than used to his past haunting him wherever he went. The tattoo on his left arm, for example. That was a mistake he would have to live with for the rest of his life, no matter if Voldemort lived or died. It was in the very fabric of his skin, and he often worried whether or not it had made its way into his soul.

_Self-pity,_ he sneered at himself, _what a wonderful way to spend the evening. Melodramatic self-pity, just to make it more enjoyable._

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and forced himself to focus. The dull light in the dungeon was, for most of the time, a blessing. Severus had no inclination to brighten the place up, or make it seem welcoming. The last thing he wanted was for his students to feel at ease within the confines of his classroom. Whilst the other Professors seemed willing to let the children feel relaxed, he refused to give them that sense of security; a security they would not have when they left Hogwarts' protection.

However, at that precise moment in time, he was feeling distinctly disgruntled at the fact that he could not brew the potions in his own private laboratory. The dull light was more than enough for the student body to be able to make a good job of the simple potions they were required to brew.

_Not that any of them seem to be capable of even that,_ he sneered. However, more precision was required with the potions he was making for Poppy, and the lack of good lighting was making it difficult.

_The sooner Lupin finds someone else to brew his potion, the better. Although, _he conceded, _he's better off with mine. Even if making it does take up my entire laboratory once a month._

Most apothecaries, and even some Potions Masters, had no problems preparing the Wolfsbane potion in the same room as other potions, but Severus refused to do so. In his mind, it only served to prove that most of the Wizards and Witches in his craft were not worthy of the title they held. The sensitive ingredients, combined with the necessity for careful preparation, made it an easy potion to get wrong, and inviting outside elements, such as other potions and their ingredients and smells, to interrupt that was unprofessional and, frankly, dangerous.

Severus quickly bottled the potions he had just finished preparing and glanced at the clock, realising that dinner would already be underway. He had had no intention of being on time as it was, so the fact that he could not have been was of little consequence. He placed the vials in the box beside the other potions he had already prepared and closed the lid over the top. He would take them to the infirmary as soon as the Skele-Gro had finished simmering, which wouldn't be for at least another day.

Severus moved quickly to the doorway and headed down the hallways to the Great Hall, nodding at the Bloody Baron as he passed through a wall to Severus' left. It took only a few moments to arrive to dinner, and he quickly assessed that most of the staff were absent. Albus, Granger, and Filius were at the top end of the table, and Minerva and Poppy were at the other end, trying to completely ignore Sybill, who was sitting opposite them. He knew that Seriya had arranged to visit her husband for the evening, not that he had particularly cared to be informed, simply that he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where the others were, however, was a complete mystery.

"Ah, Severus," Albus greeted as Severus sat at the man's left, opposite Granger. "We were wondering where you had got to."

"I had some potions to attend to."

"They are taken care of?"

"I hardly think I would be here if they were not."

"Excellent, well, you are free to join us this evening."

"I wasn't aware that _not_ attending was an option, Headmaster," Severus said with narrowed eyes, hating the smile that the Headmaster was sending his way. He quickly filled his plate as Albus turned to Professor Granger and continued whatever pointless conversation they had been having on his entering, and Severus began to eat his dinner.

"Severus."

He withheld a groan and turned to glare at the eccentric woman that had moved to sit at his right. He remembered Sybill Trelawney before she had got 'The Gift', and he had to say he rather missed the sarcastic Slytherin. They had never been friends; Sybill had been in her seventh year when he had started school, but she had always been a good sparring partner. The snivelling phoney in front of him was neither a shadow of her previous self, nor worthy to have ever been a Slytherin.

"Severus, I have a strange feeling."

"How pleasant for you," he sneered. His patience was wearing thin as it was, and the fact that Granger was smirking at him was not improving it any.

"Not for me, Severus, for you."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but refused to comment. Not only did he not want to hear what she was about to say, but he doubted he wanted the rest of the faculty to hear it either. Sybill had a penchant for causing him embarrassment with her silly, whimsical 'predictions', and he was not in the mood for her to, once again, tell him that he would either be 'bitten by cupid's arrow' or 'eaten by the offspring of a Hippogriff and a Kneazle within the next few days'. Neither had happened the last time, and he highly doubted they ever would.

"Venus dictates that the night is drawing-"

"Given that it is currently after six, I would say that, yes, night is drawing."

He bit back a smirk as Granger snorted in her pumpkin juice, causing her to start choking. The fact that Minerva and Poppy were doing nothing to hide their laughter was not helping the young witch to gain control.

"Please try not to die on us, Professor Granger," he drawled. "Sybill may see it as the night drawing to a close, thus proving her prediction."

Sybill sniffed slightly and he rolled his eyes. Even as a Slytherin the woman had been prone to tears, although only within the confines her own House; of course, the fact that she might as well be a Hufflepuff now was not an improvement to the situation. If there was one thing Severus hated, it was crying without good cause. It was a futile endeavour that merely proved to decrease one's attractiveness and irritate those in the near vicinity. Nothing came of it, and he doubted that Sybill had a good reason. Perhaps if she had been eaten by the offspring of a Hippogriff and a Kneazle…

He frowned when he realised that Sybill was still talking to him and sighed. He picked at his dinner and rolled his eyes before turning towards her.

"-passions of those around you. You really don't give yourself enough credit, Severus."

"If you've quite finished?"

"Well, not really, there was the…" she trailed off at the look in his eyes, and nodded with a nervous laugh. "Of course. I'm quite finished."

"Good."

He turned back to his dinner, satisfied when he heard her moving away, and glanced across the table at Granger. She was trying to smother a smile and he glared at her, but she didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

As dictated by the fact that no-one wanted to be cornered by Sybill, dinner ended quickly, and Severus soon found himself walking off the Hogwarts grounds with Albus and Granger. There was little talking; Albus had yet to tell him why his presence was required and Granger seemed distracted.

_No doubt wondering how Weasley and Boy Wonder will take her news,_ he thought, his eyes darkening, as they were prone to when his thoughts focussed on Potter. He despised the boy. As much as he respected the young wizard for his talents, no matter how little faith anyone would have in that fact, the truth was, the boy was too…well, Gryffindor, not to put too fine a point on it. He had the talent and promise to be the greatest wizard of all time, and he also had the common sense of a fly and the stupidity of selfless bravery. Severus had no doubt that if the boy put some effort into it, the intelligence he had hidden _somewhere_ would take effect. However, the way everyone treated the boy, Severus had little hope that that would happen.

"Here is fine, Hermione," Albus said, as he and Severus stopped by a large tree. Granger had been so lost in her thoughts that she had continued walking. On hearing the Headmaster's voice, she started a little and turned to face them with the look of someone who has just been abruptly shaken from a deep sleep.

"Sorry, Professor," she said with a smile, walking back a few steps towards them. "I was a little lost there." Albus nodded and within minutes the three of them had Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

The House, as it had been in Black's time, was still hidden from view. They walked towards it, and Severus found himself drawn to Granger as she began to fidget. He had seen the girl nervous to near hysteria before, not something unexpected of a perfectionist and over-achiever. However, she seemed nervous to a degree that he didn't think Potter and Weasley were worthy of.

_Surely if she's friends with the fools, they'll feel nothing but happiness for her. Well, perhaps not happiness that she now has power over them. Although I doubt she'll actually use it, _he thought with a sneer. No, he had no doubt that he would be picking up Granger's slack where the remaining members of the 'Dream Team' were concerned.

Severus was of the opinion that the faculty, in general, let the golden boy and his sidekick away with far too much. He, however, had no qualms at taking points at an increased rate to make up for it. After all, Albus would only find some way to give Potter points for _some_ good deed or other by the end of the school year, thus taking Gryffindor into the lead.

They quietly entered the House and Severus took a deep breath, steeling himself for having to put up with Potter and the Weasley clan. Severus did not consider himself much of a snob, no matter what Minerva said; however, where the Weasleys were concerned, he had no problems admitting that he liked to sneer in their general direction. They had more mouths to feed than money, and they were far too homely for his tastes. With that many, it was not difficult to see how they had managed to let those infernal twins turn into annoying pranksters and the fact that the youngest male Weasley was best friends with Potter was reason enough to hate him.

He found Mr Weasley to be an intelligent man with far too many annoying tastes, and his wife was an irritating, mothering busybody. The fact that both held him in the utmost contempt gave him no need to change his opinions. In fact, the only Weasley he had any liking for was the youngest.

Miss Weasley, whilst she seemed to like him as much as the rest of her family, was an intelligent, fiery young woman who he had a great deal of hope for. Assuming she didn't marry Potter and churn out the next hoard of snivelling Weasleys, Severus honestly thought she could go far. With the right guidance of course, and it was irritating that he was not in the position to be that guide. He had tried to coax Minerva into doing it herself, but the truth was that the woman had enough on her hands with Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom in her House.

There was no question that the Gryffindors were, without a doubt, the most annoying House to deal with. The Slytherins, in their turn, were the most dangerous, the Ravenclaws the most obnoxious, and the Hufflepuffs the most irritatingly weak. Because of this, and the fact that Miss Weasley was actually happy and doing well, Minerva did not have time to actually focus on her.

"Ah, Albus, Hermione, so good to see you!" Molly Weasley bustled into the hallway from the kitchen. She hugged Hermione and then glanced at him momentarily and nodded, with a tight smile. Severus smirked in amusement. "Professor," she said with tight lips. She turned back to Albus, her face instantly breaking into a smile. "We're just finishing up with dinner, why don't you come through?"

Severus stood back from the others as they entered the kitchen area. A large chorus of "hellos" echoed around the room, and Severus moved quietly into the corner as Granger was enveloped in numerous hugs. Albus made his way to the top of the table and sat down next to Arthur Weasley, instantly engaging the man in conversation.

Severus was aware that he was not a particularly popular man, emphasised by the fact that he was an ex-Death Eater, and everyone in the room knew it, but he couldn't help sometimes wishing that he had someone to greet him, to chat with him. However, this was not one of those times. Being greeted by a Weasley on friendly terms and then being forced to chat with one of them was not appealing in the slightest.

After dinner had been cleaned up, Hermione left with her friends, and he was happy to see the back of Potter and Weasley. Ginny Weasley followed them a few moments later, looking up at him and nodding her head. He inclined his head and smiled inwardly. The young girl, although she had seemed to still hate him at the end of the previous year, had always shown him an immense amount of respect, especially since he had saved her life the previous year.

A few moments later, the room was all but empty; the eldest Weasley, his parents, and Albus were left around the table. Severus made his way to the table and sat next to Albus, nodding his head at Bill Weasley. Whilst he maintained not to like any of the male Weasleys, Bill was the one he respected the most.

"We are just waiting on-" Albus stopped as the door opened, and broke into a grin. "Ah, Remus, here you are."

"Sorry, I'm late, Albus," the werewolf said, taking the seat to Severus' left.

Severus glanced at the man with a frown. He had never liked Remus during his time at school, and with good reason, but he had grown to appreciate the man's company over the last few years, and what he saw at that moment concerned him.

Remus had always been a slight man, but now he looked decidedly ill. His robes were hanging off his thin frame and his face looked eerily gaunt, the lighting in the room casting dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like the stereotypical werewolf, in fact.

Remus cast a glance at him and tried a smile, well aware that Severus' concerned gaze had been resting on him. Remus was one of the few people that knew the entire story where Severus was concerned and understood the lengths he had gone to. He trusted no one completely, but Remus was up there with Albus and Minerva as far as his trust went.

"We seem to have another leak," Albus said, getting straight to the point. The three Weasleys seemed shocked and disturbed by the news, but Severus and Remus had been the first ones to broach the subject with Albus.

They had thought, or rather, hoped, that when Vector had been dismissed, all worries of spying within the close contacts of the Order were gone. However, the mission that he and Remus had spent three weeks on recently had proven otherwise. His position as a spy was moderately useful, but he was often required to help the Order by other means, and going undercover with Remus had been the recent requirement.

"Are you sure, Albus?" Arthur asked with a frown.

"Quite," Severus replied as the Headmaster glanced in his direction.

"I'm afraid so, Arthur," Remus replied tiredly. The other men exchanged looks as Remus' gaze did not move from the table.

"Do we have any idea who?" Bill asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"No." Severus saw no reason to even pretend otherwise. They were at a total loss as to who was betraying them, and the three weeks of investigation into the lower ranks of the Death Eaters had been absolutely no help whatsoever.

"I'm afraid we have nothing," Albus said with a sigh. "Voldemort is closing in, and our only hope is that he does not discover the only weapon we have before it is ready."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "You had better hope Professor Granger does not discover this either. And I highly doubt she would appreciate being thought of as a weapon, let alone our last hope."

"Indeed," Remus said. The others had been informed of the basic details of the prophecy and of Hermione's importance the previous night, and it seemed they were still unaware as to just how important the young woman would be to their success in the war. Severus only hoped that she was able to fulfil her roll, otherwise, the war rested solely on Harry Potter's shoulders, and, to Severus at least, that was not a comforting thought.

xxxxx

**TBC…**


	3. The Perception of Truths and Lies: PartA

**Note:** I just want to say a huge thank you for all the reviews and continued support I have received for this fic. I really was not expecting such a good response. The style is different to anything I've written before, and the audience is clearly older, therefore I am even more appreciative of the response. Not that I don't value the younger readers as well, of course! Anyway, thank you again, and I hope you will continue to enjoy what I deliver.

**Note to Dead Lenore:** who asked, "why is Snape not really ugly, but just pretending to be so? I like him ugly... ugly is not a synonym of evil or even shifty..."

I would just like to state that Snape is **not** handsome. He's just not as ugly as he seems to be. The way he put it in chapter one is, "He wasn't a handsome man by a long shot, but having to play that up grated on his nerves." As for why he does this, well, there is a reason, don't worry. You'll just have to wait to see what it is. To be honest, it's nothing spectacular, just common sense, as you'll soon find out. I don't want Snape to be seen as handsome in the regular way, any attraction Hermione will feel for him will be because of who he is.

**xxxxx**

**Part Three: The Perception of Truths and Lies**

**xxxxx**

The house that had seemed so quiet and sinister the year after Sirius' death was now full of life, and Hermione couldn't help but be appreciative of the fact that Sirius' family portraits now hung in a room on the first floor, leaving the wall in the hallway free for the old photographs Harry had found of his parents and their friends. She knew that Remus found it difficult to be in the house after Sirius' death and he found it even harder to see the photographs of them all smiling and laughing so many years ago, when Sirius and Harry's parents had been alive. The presence of Peter in so many photographs was difficult for them all to stomach, but it hurt Remus so much more.

She knew Remus blamed himself for the fact that he was the only Marauder left alive; he even blamed himself for Peter's death the year before. Wormtail had finally repaid his life debt to Harry by saving the boy from Voldemort in their worst encounter to date. Hermione, Ron, and Remus had watched as Wormtail threw himself in front of the Killing Curse, saving Harry's life. He had had no dying words, had said nothing of remorse, but the look in his eyes had been enough to convince even Harry and Remus that the man regretted so many of his decisions.

She had once overheard Linda and Remus talking about his life, from werewolf to Hogwarts, from Hogwarts to his time alone, and through their third year until the present. She wasn't sure how long she had sat on the stairs, listening to what was definitely a private conversation, but Hermione was nothing if not curious. She had listened as Linda tried to convince him that nothing was his fault, despite the fact that the woman had not known Remus was a werewolf until the previous week, and had known nothing more than what Remus had told her. Hermione had not felt it was her place to tell her aunt of everything she knew simply because she wasn't sure how Linda would feel about it all.

To her credit, Hermione's aunt had handled everything well, although Hermione was sure that the alcohol they had spent the evening consuming had helped with Linda's acceptance of the situation. She had felt awful for listening, but she was glad that she had. She also should have realised sooner that Remus' extremely sensitive sense of smell had alerted him to her presence. She had been closer to Remus since then, but that had only highlighted the fact that she wasn't being honest with him. Hermione had lost count of the amount of times she had almost told him why she was studying so hard.

That thought reminded her of the reason she was at Grimmauld Place. She was there to explain things to her friends. She glanced again at the walls, noting that there were even a few photographs of the three of them, Hermione, Harry, and Ron, throughout their years at Hogwarts. Some of the later ones also included Ginny, as their friendship grew to include four.

It was strange to see their youthful faces ageing so suddenly from their fourth to fifth year, and then again from their fifth to sixth, but the fact remained that their lives had been filled with darkness and death. Whilst Hermione knew that that was a rather morose outlook on a life she wouldn't change for anything, she also knew it to be true. Their friendship had lasted through six years of a war which had centred on them. Admittedly, more so around Harry than Ron or herself, but they were Harry's best friends and would never have left him to face it alone, at least not through choice.

_Not that I even have a choice now,_ she thought, a little scared to admit that she was terrified, even to herself. _I have no choice at all. I have to help balance things with powers I don't even have yet._

Hermione took a few calming breaths as she followed Harry and Ron up the stairs to Harry's bedroom, hoping that she didn't look as nervous as she felt. Ginny had caught up with them and was walking beside Hermione, their arms linked as the redhead chatted aimlessly about Hermione's new look. They reached the end of the corridor all too quickly and Hermione soon found herself sitting on Harry's bed with her three best friends.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, Hermione," Ginny said, throwing her arms around Hermione again. "I can't believe how little you've kept in touch this summer. Tell me you haven't been killing yourself studying again."

"I'm afraid so," Hermione said, bracing herself for the inevitable moment where she had to actually tell her friends what she had been doing. There was a flurry of movement and she suddenly found herself blinded by a ginger ball of fur.

"Crookshanks!" She squeezed her cat tightly, to the point where she was almost scratched, before letting him settle on her lap where she could scratch behind his ears. "I missed you."

"He missed you too," Ron said darkly. "Bloody cat was scratching and biting us for weeks. Still don't see why you needed him out of your way. You must have done enough studying last year to pass this year's exams as well."

Hermione felt all the blood rush from her face as she kept her gaze on Crookshanks. She still had no idea how to go about telling her friends what she needed to.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

She glanced at Harry, a little shocked at his perceptiveness. She knew that Ron needed to be hit over the head with something before he saw it properly, but if she had expected anyone to sense there was something wrong, she would have guessed Ginny before she even thought of Harry.

"I have something to tell you all, and I need you to listen to me until I'm finished."

The room went silent, and the smiles she had been receiving since her arrival faded. She took a deep breath and watched as her friends exchanged glances. She needed them to understand. She couldn't do it without their support.

"Okay, Hermione," Ginny said, speaking for them all. "Just tell us, we promise not to interrupt." Her last comment was aimed at Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. She heard Harry sniggering and she grinned at him.

"Okay," she said, trying to figure out the best place to start. "You remember last year? I know, obviously you do, silly question." She took another deep breath. "Well, what you don't know is what I was studying for." She took a moment to assess their confusion before continuing, "Professor Dumbledore approached me right after…well, after the attack on my parents. He made me the offer of finishing school early. Please, Ron, don't interrupt me."

She had spotted her redheaded friend preparing to speak, and had pre-empted his interruption. "Please, I can't get this out if you start firing questions at me, and you need to know the whole story." Ron nodded and she let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore thought that I might appreciate a way to focus my loss. He knew I'd throw myself into my work anyway, and he decided to let me gain something more from it. So, he asked me to sit my sixth and seventh year exams within the same year. If you remember I was really stressed before Christmas, well, that's because I was sitting my sixth year exams."

"That's why you were absent a lot," Ginny said with a frown.

"Yes," Hermione said with a nod. "And I sat my seventh year exams when you all had your sixth year ones."

"That's why you said your exams conflicted, isn't it?" Harry asked and she nodded.

Hermione had been required to sit her seventh year exams with the seventh year students. Due to the fact that no one was aware of her sitting the same exams, they had explained her presence through exam conflicts. Hermione had taken more subjects than everyone else in the sixth year and it would not have been possible to sit the correct exams at the correct time anyway. Therefore she had been isolated from the school and allowed only to attend her exams and any revision classes she had she wished to. The isolation had also given her time and excuse to study more towards her teaching exams.

_Well, one bit down, another to go,_ she thought, feeling slightly more confident than she had been.

"Wait a minute," Ron asked, and Hermione didn't like the look in his eyes. "If you've already sat your seventh year, does that mean you won't be at Hogwarts this year?" Harry suddenly realised the truth to Ron's question and his eyes widened as they turned to her, awaiting a reply. Ginny did not seem surprised at all; instead she seemed to be thinking hard about what Hermione was saying.

"I'll be there," Hermione said quietly.

"But how?" Harry asked.

"Because I wasn't just sitting my sixth and seventh year exams this past year. I was sitting my teaching exams as well." Hermione waited a moment until they seemed to understand. "I'm a Professor."

"But, I don't understand," Ginny said, almost pleading with her. "How can you be a teacher and have sat your sixth and seventh year all in one year? There just isn't the…"

"You used a Time-Turner."

She turned to Harry and nodded her head, not quite trusting herself to speak. She remained silent, allowing her friends some time to adjust to the situation, and silently prayed that they would understand.

"Wow." Harry laughed a little. "I always knew you were brainy, but that's taking it a little too far, don't you think?"

His statement seemed to break the ice and Hermione felt herself laughing with him. She shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled at him. He would be there for her and he'd stand by her; she knew it was all right. She glanced at Ginny. The girl still seemed to be adding everything up in her head, but flashed Hermione a quick smile and she knew that Ginny would be there for her as well, which left only Ron.

She glanced at him. He was still staring at her, but rather than the wide-eyed expression he had had moments before, his face was blank, and his jaw was set. There was nothing in his expression to give away what he was thinking, and Hermione felt as if she were on trial and Ron was the Judge and Jury.

"It's going to be like it is with Charlie, isn't it?"

"It has to be, Ron." Hermione glanced at Harry and Ginny and saw that they had already reached that conclusion. "I can't be seen to be biased, and I can't do anything that would jeopardise my position." She sighed. "If it's any consolation, Ginny's the only one of you that will be in my class."

"Arithmancy?" Ginny squealed.

"Yes."

"Fantastic! You always explained things better than Professor Vector." Ginny frowned. Almost as an after thought she asked, "What happened to him?"

"He's a Death Eater."

Hermione turned to Harry, a little shocked. She hadn't been aware that Harry had been privy to the information, but she supposed she should have known. Since the disaster that was their fifth year, Dumbledore had made a point of including Harry in almost everything, with the understanding that Harry keep certain things to himself. That included not letting either her or Ron know anything. She surmised that Vector's allegiance was one of those things.

"Did you know about this?" Ron accused.

"No, but I think even Dumbledore supposed I would have figured it out. And I guess I would have if I hadn't been so wrapped up in myself last year." He continued before anyone could interrupt. "It's true and you all know it. He even told me there was someone in training, someone I could trust my life with. I guess if he'd said it was someone I already did trust my life with, I might have figured it out."

"So both of you have been lying to me for years?"

"Ron, it's not like that," Hermione said, feeling as though the conversation was slipping away from her.

"Isn't it?" Ron's face was almost as red as his hair, and Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so angry before. He stood up and took a few steps away from the bed. "You both seem to forget that I'm a part of this friendship as well. I might not be the one with all the brains and I might not be the Hero of the Wizarding World, but I'm not just some tagalong that you can include only when you feel the need to."

"Ron, please, we-"

The door slammed shut and Hermione felt tears welling up. She had known Ron would take it the worst of all, but she hadn't realised he would feel as betrayed as he clearly did. Ginny excused herself and went in search of her brother, and Hermione was left alone with Harry.

"I really messed up this time, didn't I?"

"Hermione, this is not your fault. This had to be kept a secret. You know that. If anyone had known, then Voldemort would have found out, and he would have known that Vector's secret was out. No one could have known too soon, or your life would have been in danger."

"Then why do I feel so rotten, Harry?" She blinked back tears as he shifted to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Nothing's working out the way it was meant to. Half the Professors aren't on my side. The only ones that seem to be are Minerva, Seriya, and Filius. Irma's okay with it as well, but I spent so much time in the library last year that that isn't a surprise. Even Snape is being nicer than the rest."

"Thank God you said 'Snape' there." Hermione looked up at him with a frown and he chuckled. "I was getting queasy with you calling my teachers by their first names, but if you'd called Snape '_Severus_', I might have had to kill myself."

Hermione laughed and snuggled into his shoulder. "No, don't worry. Actually, wait a minute; I did call him 'Severus' yesterday."

"You're joking, right?"

She laughed. "No. But he called me 'girl' and I simply wanted to remind him that I was a woman."

"I think those robes and that fancy new hairstyle of yours would have been reminder enough. You look fantastic."

She blushed and glanced up at him. "Thank you."

He tugged at her hair and shook his head. "I like it this length. Or should I say lengths, since there appears to be more than one? It's really short, isn't it?"

"They're called layers, Harry, and the shortest still goes to the bottom of my chin. I don't think I could cope with really short hair. Shoulder length is definitely short enough."

"So, I take it the new look is because of the teaching."

"Yeah, I didn't want to be the bushy-haired know-it-all anymore. I'm a teacher now, I needed a new look."

Harry sniggered and she threw him a questioning look. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I was just trying to picture the look on Snape's face when he realised you were a Professor."

"He hit himself in the face with a door."

Harry almost fell off the bed laughing and, when he had calmed down, Hermione relayed the initial meeting with Dumbledore, through to Snape's rather amusing entrance and the conversation she had overheard that morning. He had been angry about the teachers' reaction to her, but after relaying Filius' words, he calmed somewhat. It wasn't until he wiped her cheeks that she realised she had been crying.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stop her tears from falling. But it seemed the more she tried to stop, the harder she cried. "Everything's different, Harry, and I can't seem to stop things from changing."

"You shouldn't try, Mia."

She laughed a little at his mischievous grin and swatted his arm. Truthfully, she didn't mind it when he called her that; it had been her aunt's pet name for her since she was little, and the minute Harry had heard Linda use it, he had started to do the same. He was the only one who had done so, and she quite liked that. He was her best friend, even more so since her romance with Ron had failed so miserably. She had always vowed never to choose a favourite between her best friends, but Harry simply understood her so much better than Ron did, and besides, since Ginny had become a part of the group, the siblings had reinforced the bond they had had as children. Ginny and Ron were so close that Hermione often thought they could be twins, and she was glad that Ginny had had nothing to do with the secrets she and Harry had been keeping for the last two years, because Ron would need Ginny, now more than ever.

"I just feel so lonely, Harry," she said, allowing him to bundle her up in his arms. "I'm going to be completely separated from you all this year, and there won't be any way I can change that."

"I will always be here for you, Hermione, always. I don't care if you're a teacher or not, you're my best friend and nothing in the whole world can change that."

"I wouldn't be so sure. There's more I haven't told you."

"It's okay, I know."

She looked up at him and frowned, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "What do you mean?"

"When Dumbledore told me about Vector and the new Professor they were training, he told me about everything, Hermione. I just wasn't smart enough to piece it all together." He tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled sadly. "You're _Hermanté_, aren't you?" Hermione didn't even try to speak, she just nodded and allowed herself to be gathered into his arms again as she began to cry out all her frustrations and worries.

xxxxx

Hermione felt a hand on her shoulders and it was not until she blinked a few times that she realised that she had been sleeping. She mumbled slightly and felt herself shaking. It took a moment to realise that she was lying on Harry's chest and that it was the fact that he was laughing that was causing her to shake. She growled at him and felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Sorry, Mia," he said with a yawn, "but you have a visitor."

She turned around, rubbing her eyes as she faced the doorway. She smiled when she saw who was crouching by the bed, but she soon found herself frowning. "Remus, you look awful!"

"That's what I said," Harry mumbled as Remus chuckled.

"And to think," the elder man said, smiling a little, "I was about to tell you that you looked marvellous. Bed hair aside, of course," he finished with a wink.

"Thank you." Hermione sat up, allowing Harry to crack his neck. He had fallen asleep in a rather painful position. "But really, Remus, what's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong."

Hermione could see the pain in his eyes, and she couldn't help herself. She reached out and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, which he readily accepted and returned.

Remus chuckled again and pulled back, drawing himself up to sit on the bed by her legs. She scooted over a little, nudging Harry as well, in order to make room for him. She smiled and tried not to look too worried about the man, but she could not believe how ill he looked.

"It's not as bad as all that," Remus said with a smile, almost as if he were reading her thoughts. "I'm a little tired and I think I may be coming down with the werewolf flu. It'll pass."

"The werewolf flu?" Harry asked, his eyebrows rising and his mouth curling into a smile.

Hermione let out a snigger and soon the three of them were laughing. Hermione shook her head and swatted Harry's arm. She looked at Remus seriously once more.

"Remus, I want you to promise me you'll get some rest."

"Yes, mother."

Harry chuckled but his eyes were serious. "You know she's right, Remus."

"Isn't she always?" the werewolf answered, a twinkle in his eyes. "She is, after all, the youngest Hogwarts professor in history, you know."

"Oh, Remus, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you!" Hermione felt glad to be finally be able to talk about it, but she felt as though she had betrayed so many people that she wasn't sure it was worth it.

"It's all right, Hermione. Linda and I had it pretty much worked out after the first two weeks of the summer. When you finally told her, she decided she should tell her partner in crime."

"What?"

Remus laughed. "You may have been able to fool this sod, but I'd like to think I'm rather more intelligent and - ouch!"

"You may look like hell," Harry said, narrowing his eyes with a smile, "but that doesn't mean I'll let you insult me."

"Men." Hermione rolled her eyes. Both Remus and Harry looked ready to protest, but a knock at the door cut them off before they had the chance to begin. "Come in."

The door opened and Hermione nodded to Professor Snape as he entered slightly. He clearly had no wish to step any further into Harry's bedroom than was absolutely necessary, and Hermione could understand that. The hatred between the two may have lessened to allow respect, but there was no love lost between the men.

"If you are ready, Professor Granger, we will be returning to Hogwarts shortly."

Hermione nodded and slid her legs off the side of the bed. "Thank you, Professor. I'll be down in a moment."

Snape nodded and closed the door behind him. Hermione was sure she could hear Ginny's voice in the corridor, but Harry was demanding her attention.

"Are you busy for the rest of the holidays, Mia?"

"Well, I still have to look through the student records and…" Hermione trailed off and began to laugh at the look on Harry's face. "Don't worry, you aren't one of my students, Harry, I won't need to look at yours." His face flooded with relief and Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if I don't already know what most of your work would be like, anyway."

"You never know. I could be a genius."

Remus laughed loudly and, for a moment, Harry looked insulted. Remus shook his head and looked at Harry a little wistfully. "James used that one on Lily all the time, Harry. It never works. She'll see through it in a heartbeat."

Harry looked torn between being proud that he was like his father and upset at the thought that he would have liked to have known the man. Hermione pulled him into an impulsive hug, shocking him into laughter.

"I have to go," she said, squeezing tighter.

"I know." Harry kissed her on the forehead and released her. He winked at her. "I'll send Hedwig with a note to meet up sometime before school starts. Just the two of us."

"I'd like that. Besides," she said, her smile fading, "I don't think you could persuade Ron to come no matter what."

"He'll come round, Hermione."

"Eventually," they finished together.

"I'll walk you downstairs," Remus said, standing and offering Hermione a hand. He pulled her to her feet and together, the three of them left the room. They met Dumbledore and Snape at the bottom of the stairs and, after a quick goodbye to everyone (apart from Ron who was still in his room), they left the house and Apparated to Hogwarts.

During the walk back to the school, Hermione noticed that Snape seemed to be thinking deeply about something and she had to wonder what the Order had been discussing that would make him so on edge. He had seemed to know what was going to be discussed before they left, but something had served to unnerve the man. In fact, if he were anyone else, Hermione felt sure that he would have been fidgeting.

They reached the gates quickly and, while Dumbledore made his way in search of Professor McGonagall, Hermione and Professor Snape continued towards the dungeons. She could not stop herself from glancing at the Potions Master from the corner of her eyes and, just as they were approaching her rooms, she was startled to find him staring back at her.

"If you have something to say, Professor Granger, then say it and desist staring at me."

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"You mean aside from your constant scrutiny?"

Hermione smirked. "Yes, aside from that."

Snape stopped walking and looked at her calculatingly. He seemed to be debating whether or not to ask her something and Hermione was rather shocked. If there was one thing she knew about Snape, it was that he seemed to trust no one, and if he were considering telling, or asking, her something, the chances were that it was serious.

She desperately wanted to say something, to urge him to speak, but she had the feeling that it would have the opposite effect, so she held her tongue. After what seemed like a long time, Snape finally reached his decision and Hermione tried not to seem too annoyed when it looked as though he was planning to tell her absolutely nothing.

"There is nothing I wish to discuss. Good evening, Miss Granger."

"That's _Professor_ Granger, as we have already discussed, _Severus_."

Snape whirled around and glared at her. The look she was receiving, added to the fact that he had stepped closer and was looming over her, should have been enough to keep her quiet. However, something refused to let her back down. There was something inside of her that simply would not let this man, any man, speak down to her.

"You clearly had something to ask me, Professor, and if it is something I can help you with, then surely it would be prudent to do so."

"Oh, for goodness' sakes, woman, hold your tongue."

Snape stepped away from her, confusion evident on his face. She didn't know why she was smiling, he had insulted her after all, but he had called her 'woman', which was a far cry from 'child'.

"So long as we're clear on that fact, Professor Snape, I won't detain you any longer." She turned on her heel and walked to the wall that opened to her rooms. She muttered the password and turned back to him once more. He was still gazing at her, although his shell-shocked look had faded somewhat. "And if you change your mind about asking that question, Professor, you know where to find me." She smirked once more and entered her rooms, the wall closing up behind her. She stood with her back against it for a few moments as the feeling of power lessened. She replayed the conversation over in her head and closed her eyes.

"Oh, my goodness," she whispered to the empty room. "What have I gone and done?"

After a few moments of cringing by her doorway, part of her still waiting for Snape to return to his senses, enter her room and hex her, Hermione walked towards the fireplace, waving her hand to light the fire, and sat in her new favourite chair. She curled her legs under her and smiled as Crookshanks jumped onto her lap. Harry had sent the cat through the Floo with a note attached that read, 'Some lazy git forgot me'.

"Hey there," she murmured, scratching behind his ears. "Seems as though this Hermanté thing may prove to be more hassle than it's worth," she said with a sigh. "I don't get it, Crookshanks; I don't really feel anything like I think I'm meant to. From what I've read so far, the powers should be substantial and I doubt standing up to Professor Snape, no matter how scary he can be, counts."

She sighed again and nudged the cat from her lap, standing and heading to her desk. She sat down in the comfortable desk chair and picked up the book Snape had given her. She was preparing to open it when there was a tapping at her window. She glanced up to see Hedwig tapping her beak against the window frame and quickly moved to let her in.

"Thank you," she said as she removed the letter. She held her arm out for Hedwig and, when the bird was resting on it, took her further into the room. She walked to the fireplace and allowed Hedwig to fly onto the perch she had set up for Snowshine. The owl settled beside Hermione's own and quickly helped itself to food and water as Hermione moved back to her desk and opened her letter.

_Hey Mia,_

_I know you probably weren't expecting this so soon, but I have got to get out of this house! I've been cooped up all summer and the thought of escape is just too good to pass up. No one seems all that keen to let me out, but I've threatened hexing them so much that I think they're beginning to believe me._

_In a compromise, and because I would prefer it, I've agreed that we should meet in Hogsmeade instead of Diagon Alley. Mrs Weasley was happier with the thought that I'd be near Hogwarts and Dumbledore, plus it means that you don't have to go anywhere too far._

_If you can make it, why don't we meet at the Three Broomsticks around 11 o'clock? Send Hedwig back with your answer. Make sure it's yes, please. Your best friend's sanity and the lives of those around him hang in the balance. Not that I'm trying to blackmail you or anything. _

_Love,_

_Harry_

Hermione laughed and placed the letter on the desk. She picked up her quill and ink and pulled a fresh piece of parchment from the drawer. She glanced at Hedwig and noticed that the bird seemed rather comfortable by the fire. In fact, the owl was almost asleep. She shook her head and turned back to the desk.

_Dear Harry,_

_As an activist for the protection of animals, I feel it is my duty to admonish you for your cruel treatment of a certain snowy white owl that is currently sleeping by my fireplace. However, I would be willing to overlook your transgression should you, in future, provide more suitable working hours for said owl._

_Due to your overwork of this owl, I feel it is my duty to personally return her to you and will, therefore, forgo my hectic day of washing my hair and see you at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning at the suggested establishment. By such time I expect you to have found a stronger grasp on whatever sanity you possess, of which, I would like to point out, I have seen little evidence. However, I want you to realise that the state of my hair is a sacrifice I do not make lightly, but am willing to make for the future of Owl Rights._

_Until tomorrow, Mister Potter._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

_P.S. Try not to hex anyone, Harry. I expect you to be awake in the morning and hexing can take up a lot of energy. There are nine Weasleys, remember._

Hermione chuckled and turned to look at Hedwig once more. "Why don't you stay here and rest, Hedwig? We'll let my fat old owl get some exercise." Hedwig seemed to agree, although Hermione had to apologise profusely to Snowshine before the owl would agree to take the letter.

After attaching her letter to her owl, she walked back to the window, shivering slightly at the night breeze. Snowshine flew out into the darkness and Hermione watched her for a few moments. She finally reached out to close the window and turned back around, instantly grabbing her head as a dizzy spell hit her.

Her hearing became muffled and her vision began to waver slightly, as if she were looking at it through a layer of waving water. She still had a hand on the windowsill and used it to lower herself to the floor. She felt a wave of power wash over her, something almost tangible, but a few moments later it was gone. She blinked a few times and grimaced as her ears popped and her vision returned to normal.

Hermione knew she should likely head to the Hospital Wing, but, after glancing at her clock, she decided it was too late to bother anyone over a dizzy spell. She stood up cautiously and pulled out her wand, taking a deep breath before casting a few spells on herself. There were no worrying results. In fact, Hermione was in perfect health. Any insecurities she may have felt about her decision not to see Madame Pomfrey were satisfied and she instead headed into her bedroom to retire for the night.

xxxxx

Hermione yawned as she pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks. She glanced behind her to see that Hedwig had come to rest on the roof of Zonko's, beside another white owl she recognised. She smiled and entered the pub, instantly spotting a sleepy looking Harry at a table in the back. She shook her head and walked towards him. He had yet to notice her and his head was lolling gently against his chest.

"Mister Potter!"

Harry jumped awake and sat up straight, momentarily disoriented. Hermione watched as he realised where he was and spotted her grinning at him. He glared at her, but the effect was ruined by the pout on his lips.

"That was mean."

"That was funny," Hermione said with a laugh as she sat down opposite him. "There are few times I wish that Colin was around with his camera, but this is definitely one of them."

"You're nasty."

"And you're adorable when you're sleepy."

Harry rolled his eyes but soon found himself yawning. He leaned back again and smiled at her. "So, am I going to be arrested for owl abuse?"

"I'm still considering it." Hermione smiled. "I'll see what Snowshine says about how you treated her and we'll see."

Harry raised his hands in defence. "Okay, that owl was annoyed long before it got near me." She had the grace to blush and Harry sat forward. "Hah! Seems we're partners in crime."

"Okay, you got me."

They ordered lunch and spent the rest of the morning catching up. Whilst they had seen each other during the previous school year, they had had so many secrets, and Hermione had had so much studying, that they had a lot more than the summer to relay to each other. They left the pub in the early afternoon and spent more time perusing the shops and, eventually, went for a walk, reminiscing about their past.

"I'll never forget the look on Malfoy's face when he saw my head floating in mid air," Harry said with a laugh. "At the time I was terrified that I'd been caught, but it was really funny."

Hermione smiled, but their talk of the past had simply reminded her of a constant presence that was noticeably absent. "How's Ron?"

Harry sighed. "He's…Ron." He kicked a stone out of the way and reached out for her, wrapping an arm around her as they made their way back into the village. "He's being stubborn. Ginny seems to think that he'll come around soon, and I hope he does. Ron's not used to being on his own and Ginny won't choose sides, even if he is her brother. Last time we fell out, Ron had you. That made a difference. Hopefully he'll realise that he wants both of us around."

"What if he doesn't, Harry?"

Harry looked at her and smiled. "He will, Mia. After all, who wouldn't want us around?"

Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug. They had reached the village and Hermione noticed that she was receiving a few glares from some of the younger witches. She smiled to herself and heard Harry chuckling.

"You know things would be so much easier if we _were_ in love," he said, looking down at her. "Maybe then I wouldn't have to explain to every girl I meet that I'm single."

"Every girl you meet?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Okay, so only some of them. There are a few that I'm perfectly happy to let think we're shagging."

"Harry Potter, watch your language!" Hermione swatted him as he laughed. She shook her head indulgently. "Why do you think we never did fall in love, Harry?" she asked, looking up at him. There was no denying that Harry Potter was gorgeous and that Hermione loved him with all her heart went without saying, but there was nothing between them. It wasn't the first time that Hermione had wondered why.

"Are you joking, Mia? I love you, but I'd be dead within a week!" Harry laughed at her confusion. "Every time I put myself in harms way and survive, I come back to you and worry that I'm going to die anyway. The look in your eye is one step short of being an Avada Kedavra! Could you imagine how much worse that would be if we were dating?"

Hermione laughed. "I guess you're right."

"We're just not compatible, I guess." Harry frowned. "No, it's not even that. We are compatible. I'd even go so far as to say we're soul mates. I'm just not _in _love with you."

Hermione smiled. "Soul mates?" Harry nodded and she hugged him tighter. "Yes, I guess we are." She held him for a moment longer before pulling back. "I really should get back to the castle. I want to get started on those student files."

Harry nodded and kissed her forehead as he always did, before pulling completely out of her embrace. "I'll walk you back."

"It's all right," Hermione said with a grin. "I think I can manage. You get back to your prison and try not to hex any redheads."

"I'll try," Harry said with a laugh. He winked at her and turned away, heading back to the Three Broomsticks to use the Floo. They had sent the owls off before starting their walk, so Harry did not have to worry about Hedwig. "Oh, and, Mia," he said turning round. "Try not to get yourself hexed by Snape before we get back."

Hermione laughed and waved him off before turning around and heading back to Hogwarts. She arrived back in time for dinner, and ate quickly before showering and settling herself down in her chair to tackle her students' files.

She started with the third years, knowing that they would be the most difficult to gauge. Because the third years had never taken Arithmancy before, they had Predicted Files. A spell using each of the files from their other classes was used to produce a separate file, predicting what the student would be capable of in the subject, based on their other work. In theory, Hermione thought it was a good idea, but in practice, she didn't see how it could possibly be accurate.

Hermione knew, from her own time in classes, that each student reacted differently to the various methods of teaching. Whilst a student may have the capacity to understand a subject, the amount that they learned was ultimately a result of the way they had been taught. So, to say that someone was or was not going to do well in her class was never going to be accurate enough for her, as it was only based on the teaching of her colleagues and how each student responded to the different methods.

Hermione spent the rest of the night, and indeed the next few days, reading through her files. There were more than she had anticipated and, between preparing for her classes and learning more about the castle and its various rooms and hallways (which she deemed necessary as a Professor), it was Friday night before Hermione was reading her Seventh Years' files.

There were a total of twelve students in her NEWT class, and she wasn't surprised by any of the names. Although, Gregory Goyle's enrolment in the class in her sixth year had almost caused her (along with the rest of the non-Slytherin members of the class) to faint on the spot, she could no longer follow the assumption that he was there on the merit of copying Draco Malfoy. After opening his file, she had to concede that the boy surprised her.

After Crabbe's death during their previous year, Goyle was less inclined to put himself in harms way. He still maintained a somewhat dense exterior, but Hermione had often wondered if he could really be as stupid as he seemed. From Vector's notes, she surmised that, whilst Goyle had no common sense, he seemed to possess a superior grasp of numbers to that of most of the class. He had problems with a lot of the theory; however, if it were explained to him numerically, with examples, he was able to figure it out.

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered, scratching her cat behind the ears. "Well, he's hardly a genius, but it seems that Goyle does have a brain after all, Crookshanks. Can you imagine the look on Ron's face when I tell him that?" She faltered slightly when she realised that she would neither be allowed to tell him, nor would he be likely to listen in his current state of mind.

She took a deep breath and forced thoughts of her friends out of her mind. After the next file she would be half way through the last pile of work, and she could finally get around to reading the book Snape had leant her.

She reached for the next file, the one she was most intrigued to see. She had wanted to skip straight to that one, but had forced herself to go through it alphabetically as she had done with the lower years. She would not allow her prejudices to overcome her as a Professor.

_Unlike some people,_ she thought wryly.

Hermione glanced once more at the words, 'Malfoy, Draco' before opening the folder. If she had thought she knew what to expect from his file, she was most definitely mistaken. Whilst she had no misconceptions about Draco's intelligence, she had not expected to discover that his WIT (Wizard Intelligence Testing) was at a level of SG both with Arithmancy and, more surprisingly, overall.

In the Wizarding World, intelligence testing was done with a wand and was relevant to a subject. An overall mark was possible and was often taken as well, but when relating to a specific subject, the mark used would be relevant to the field. Testing took place before a person began their NEWTS, as it was deemed then that the brain, although still able to learn, had reached its potential as far as a level was concerned. In order to sit a NEWT, a person had to have passed their OWL and have a WIT of at least I.

There were seven levels of WIT that one could achieve. The levels had been named after the first person to have attained each level. The order ran as such; Dallas Dernby (D), Sigmund Salamander (S), Freda Ifomp (FI), Ivan Igby (I), Bella Innis (BI), Ganeida Green (G) and Sean Gallant (SG). The names, however, quickly came to be known Dense, Surprisingly Stupid, Fairly Intelligent, Intelligent, Beyond Intelligent, Genius and Surpassing Genius.

Students were tested in every subject, including those they had not chosen. This was in case someone scored an extremely high WIT, but had not known they possessed the ability. In those circumstances, it was possible for someone to be allowed onto the NEWT course if they agreed to extra tutoring, as had been the case with Goyle entering the Arithmancy class.

Hermione had been delighted to receive an overall G and a G in every subject apart from Divination, where she received an FI and Potions and Arithmancy, where she received an SG. To find out that Draco Malfoy possessed an overall WIT higher than hers irked more than a little. According to his file, Draco had received nothing lower than a BI on any subject, even (to Hermione's amusement) Muggle Studies, but his overall intelligence was astounding. To Hermione's knowledge, there were only three known wizards in the whole world with an SG level WIT; Savannah Ria (a Southern American Alchemist), Dmitri Ivanov (a Russian Astronomer) and Albus Dumbledore.

"I guess Draco makes four," she said softly, still unable to wrap her head around the fact.

There was a knock at her door and Hermione stood up to answer it, blinking a few times as her vision began to waver. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself before making her way across the room. She opened the door to a rather disgruntled looking Professor Snape just as another wave of power engulfed her.

Snape's outline blurred until she couldn't make out who he was any longer. All she knew was when she looked at him, it hurt. Her eyes seemed to stab with pain as if they couldn't cope with looking at the man. As before, it was suddenly gone just as soon as it had begun. And one look at Professor Snape told her that she wouldn't be getting away from this one without telling someone what had happened.

xxxxx

**TBC…**

**This chapter was too long for one update, so the rest is in the next part.**


	4. The Perception of Truths and Lies: PartB

**This is the rest of the previous chapter, which was too long to fit in the one update.**

xxxxx

**Part Three: The Perception of Truths and Lies**

xxxxx

"Professor Granger, can you hear me?" Severus took another step forward, resisting the urge to reach a hand out to steady her. He wasn't sure whether or not she would appreciate the gesture, but he did not particularly want Hermione Granger fainting on him. He just knew that if that were to happen it would somehow end up being his fault.

"I'm-I'm all right, Professor, th-thank you."

Severus raised an eyebrow and finally gave in to the urge, steadying her against the opening in the wall. "I might have believed that had you been able to complete the sentence without stuttering like Longbottom."

The woman glared at him and he smirked. She was as easy to rile up as Minerva; it was the innate Gryffindor in her. She felt the need to stand up for those who failed to possess the ability to stand up for themselves. He had been waiting for Longbottom to grow a spine for seven years and he was losing hope. However, the more people like Granger stood up for Longbottom, the less likely he was to do the same for himself. The boy's stint in the Ministry at the end of his fifth year had given him a backbone for all of five seconds. Severus had actually hoped that the boy would hold his gaze, accept his insults with grace (and, dare he hope, answer back), and get on with his work. All it had taken had been an added narrowing of the eyes and he had turned into the Longbottom Severus knew and hated. However, two minutes thinking of Longbottom was more than enough to last Severus a lifetime, so he was glad when Granger broke the silence.

"Was there something you needed, Professor?"

Her voice seemed to be returning to normal, and there was definitely fire in her gaze, but something was a little off, and he couldn't help but notice. Nevertheless, Severus was a man who valued his privacy and if Granger wanted to keep her secrets, he would let her, but only if she remained standing. If she fainted on him, she would regret it. He would set Poppy on her.

"Yes, there was. May I come in?"

His request seemed to startle her and Severus wondered if his chosen course of action was wise. Especially when he noted that she seemed to be wearing nothing but her dressing gown. After another moment, she stepped aside and motioned for him to enter.

The room was warm and friendly and, thankfully, devoid of Gryffindor Colours. After spending a prolonged period of time in Minerva's rooms, anyone would feel the urge to hunt Gryffindor for dinner, just so that they could rid the world of the garish red and gold that were the House's colours.

He spotted the rather large ginger cat that he had seen stalking the Hogwarts' Grounds on many occasions and settled in the chair furthest away from it. It wasn't that he didn't think the animal was intelligent; it was simply that he thought it had a questionable taste in friends. Sirius Black being the prime example. Granger followed him into the main part of the room and the cat moved to allow her to sit, curling itself onto her lap.

"Is there something wrong with my cat, Professor?"

"Having seen its temperament, I would question the use of the word 'cat'. Unless you deem to fit the word 'hell' in front of it, 'tiger' seems more appropriate."

Severus hadn't intended to speak those thoughts aloud, but the reaction they garnered was rather unexpected. Granger's laughter echoed through the room and, after looking at her questioningly for a moment, Severus allowed himself a small smirk.

"He does have a bit of a nasty streak, don't you, Crookshanks?" She scratched the animal behind the ears before turning her attention back to him. "What can I do for you, Professor?"

Snape let out a breath, unsure of where to begin. He continued to question his decision to ask her anything, but it seemed prudent to get an inside opinion on the person before he jumped to any conclusions.

When Miss Weasley had approached him in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, he hadn't known what to expect, but a request to speak with him privately when she returned to the school had not been on his list of possibilities. She had haltingly said something about her brother Percy before scurrying off at the sound of her mother's voice. Whilst Severus had his suspicions as to what she could be referring to, he did not want to jump to any conclusions before he had gained some facts.

"Professor Snape?"

"My apologies," he replied, without thinking. Despite the fact that (to his chagrin) she had heard those words from him before, they had clearly caught her off guard and he chose to continue before she found her wits and commented on them. Again. "I would like to enquire as to your opinions of Percy Weasley."

Granger frowned and settled further into her chair. After a few moments, she spoke. "May I ask why?"

Severus debated with himself as to how much he should tell her, both about Virginia Weasley and his own observations. "I believe that his estrangement from his family is not in his best interests."

"Try telling him that," she said with a sigh. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and he suddenly felt very conscious of himself. "It's important, isn't it?" she questioned. "You wouldn't come to me, of all people, if it wasn't."

"It is important," he replied, not willing to comment on how he viewed her as a confidant. She was Potter's friend, that should be enough to condemn her in his eyes, but she was also one of the most intelligent witches he had ever met in his life. However, he vowed to physically injure himself if he ever told her that. Badly.

"I can't say that I know much, I haven't really seen Percy since he left his family, but I will say that they don't speak of him. I know Mrs Weasley still sends him gifts on his birthday and at Christmas, but I also know that he sends them back. Mr Weasley hides them when he does, but I think she knows."

Severus nodded. It wasn't the information he had come for, but he wasn't entirely sure what he _had_ come for. If he thought about it objectively, there was no possible way Granger could give him any information that would be of much use.

"Is that all?" she asked, and he became aware that he had been silent for a while.

"Yes, I think that is all." He rose to leave, but her voice stopped him before he reached the door.

"Professor, has he taken the Mark?"

Severus turned around to look at her. She had stood up and closed the gap between them to a few steps. In his mind, he tried to separate her from colleague back to student, in order to maintain some form of structure that he was comfortable with, but the presence of the young woman before him demanded that he treat her with more respect than that.

"I do not know." She closed her eyes and nodded slowly and, when she opened them again, he saw that she was grateful that he had been honest with her. "But I intend to find out," he finished.

She nodded and he returned the gesture with a slight inclination of his head. He noticed that the movement caused her a bit of disorientation and he frowned. She seemed to recover quickly, so he did not question her further. Hermione Granger was an extraordinary witch with the intelligence and knowledge to be extremely powerful. When she came into possession of her powers as Hermanté, Severus knew that she would be a force to be reckoned with. Given the state she appeared to be in and the authority and poise she was displaying, he doubted it would be long before that power manifested itself. In fact, he wasn't convinced it hadn't already begun to.

He left Granger's rooms and moved quickly through the hallways, soon finding himself in his own rooms. He removed his outer robes and quickly entered his private lab, checking on the potions that he had left to simmer. He heated the cauldron, picked up the final ingredients and leaned further over the potion, adding the last root of asphodel and mixing the potion twenty-three times counter-clockwise. He closed his eyes briefly and lowered the heat of the flame with a slight twitch of his wrist, bringing the potion back to a simmer. He had bottled the Wolfsbane potion earlier that day and was thankful to be back in his own laboratory again. It was his sacred space, the one place that the snivelling brats couldn't get to him, and he felt more like himself than he had all week, despite there being no students around to bother him. Whilst part of him still considered Granger a student, he had hardly seen her all week, save for meals, so it was not her presence that had irritated him.

He turned to the doorway, with one final glance at the simmering potion, and walked into his rooms, warding the doorway to the lab behind him. His labs led directly into his somewhat spacious sitting room, and he sighed, removing his robes and throwing them over the edge of the couch. He settled into his armchair and relaxed, allowing his body to sink into the black leather. His rooms, whilst not as welcoming as Granger's, were not cold and dark as he knew people expected. When Minerva had first seen them, she had been rather vocal in that fact.

He took a moment to study the main sitting room noticing that, while Granger had forgone her House Colours, his were there in full force. It wasn't that he wanted to show House pride particularly, he honestly liked the colours. Severus preferred his privacy, and the only place in the castle he was guaranteed that was in the dungeons. Heating his rooms was not a problem, but there was only so much one could do to brighten the place up that didn't involve garish colours. Or pastels. Severus despised pastels. They were watered down colours with absolutely no power left to them. Magic had many allies, and colour was one of them. Using red with sex magic or black with the Dark Arts was not a random choice. The colours held real power and, to Severus at least, watering them down took away from that power. Therefore, decorating his rooms in pastel colours was not only out of character, but it never even crossed his mind. Using greens, silvers and whites had been his way of brightening up the rooms and, despite opinions to the contrary, House pride was simply an added bonus.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Not willing to wait until the pain grew before administering a potion, he rose and made his way into his bedroom, stopping by his bedside cabinet to pick up the vial. He glanced into the mirror by his bed, struck once more by the difference in his appearance. He had never really wanted to be handsome, well, not since he was a boy at least. But it was odd, looking into the mirror and seeing yourself, but not seeing it at the same time.

Lucius Malfoy had taught him well, on that he knew. Whilst the small, but substantial, age gap had kept them from being at Hogwarts together, their families were well acquainted and they had often spent time in each other's company. In the holidays, during Severus' time at Hogwarts, Lucius had shown him the finer points of seduction and, when Severus had realised that they weren't working for him, he had adjusted them for his own unusual looks.

_Unusual?_ He scoffed at his own thoughts. _I believe the word is 'ugly'. Although,_ he thought, staring at his current reflection with disdain, _not _that_ ugly._

Severus had soon found that it was not difficult to seduce women and even men on some occasions. Despite his less than attractive looks, he had found that he wasn't lacking in charm. It was all a game to Severus. It was an art. All he had to do was be charming and aloof, all he had to do was look at them hungrily and they were more than happy to strip off their clothes and shag him there and then. Lucius had called it magnetism, Severus had called it luck, the women had said it was his eyes.

His eyes had been the first thing to change when he had joined the Dark Lord. The body he had spent the summer working on had been next, quickly followed by the nose he had finally had fixed upon leaving school. He had been lured in by the Dark Arts, but he was not a fool. He had known what Voldemort would want from him, and had done all that he could to ensure that his _Master_ hadn't wanted it at all. It had been the first time he had been glad he didn't have Lucius' good looks, and he had never looked back.

He quickly took his potion, making a mental note to brew more for his personal stores, and placed the empty vial on top of the cabinet. He sighed and entered his bathroom, pulling the rest of his clothes off and leaving them on the floor. He entered his shower and quickly turned it on, allowing the water to get hot enough to scald him before stopping the rise in temperature. He usually didn't have to have showers like that until at least the second day of term, but having to deal with Granger for the last week seemed to have finally taken its toll.

Although he realised that Granger was the least of his problems, she was an easy scapegoat. He had spent the last week sifting through his Pensieve for any indication of what the youngest Weasley could be wanting with him, searching for everything he knew about the brother she seemed so worried about.

Percy Weasley was not a particularly powerful wizard, that was not what worried him in the slightest, but he was intelligent and that intellect was not something Severus wanted in the hands of the Dark Lord. Percy Weasley had been studious to the extent that made Severus wonder why the boy hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw. Where most people would wonder the same about Hermione Granger, he never had. Ravenclaw would have suited Granger's intellectual pursuits to a tee, but whilst Ravenclaws were happy with simply gaining the knowledge, Granger insisted on acting upon it. Percy Weasley did not act.

_Well, until he turned on his family,_ he thought. He began to shampoo his hair, taking great delight in washing off the grease Albus felt was necessary as an added deterrent. Severus couldn't say he didn't agree, but that did not mean he enjoyed feeling as though there was an oil slick on his head.

Severus did not like the Weasleys, in fact, hating them was a rather enjoyable pastime of his, but they were a definite help to the Order. Having nine members (eight if you excluded Percy, which he noted they often did, even before his detachment from them) without even having to try was not something to sneer at. Although he often did.

What worried Severus, though, was the possibility that Percy had joined the Dark Lord. Despite his dislike for them, the one thing annoyingly certain about the Weasleys was their capacity for good. If Percy had turned on that, what were the chances the others would follow? What were the chances that Miss Weasley could follow?

Severus sighed and began to rinse out his hair. If there were three witches that his _Master_ could not be allowed to get his hands on, they were Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, and Virginia Weasley. Hermione's fate seemed to hang in the balance, according to prophecy at least, Blaise was swaying somewhere in the middle, if his observations were correct, but Virginia Weasley had always been the one that Severus had had no worries about. Until now.

If Percy Weasley had turned and Miss Weasley wished to speak with _him_, was it possible she was considering following her brother into the Dark? Severus seriously hoped that that was not the case. He had hoped never to worry about the two Gryffindors on his small list, but it seemed as though they could turn just as much as Miss Zabini. What irritated him more was, now that Granger was a Professor, he had to worry twice as much as before.

_I have no idea what Albus was thinking. We would have been better equipped to look after the woman had she remained a student. Now she'll be under the illusion that she can protect herself and, knowing her past with Potter, we might as well just hand her over to the Dark Lord right now._

He finished up his shower and used a quick drying spell, entering his bedroom and pulling back his sheets. He slipped into bed and picked up the book on his cabinet, realising that sleep was a futile endeavour at that moment. He would have stalked the hallways trying to wind himself down, but without students to take points from, Severus found it lost its appeal.

After rereading the same page about three times, Severus groaned and lay back, replacing the book on his bedside cabinet. No matter how hard he tried, he found his thoughts returned to the witch that resided closer to his dungeons than he was comfortable with, or rather, he found his thoughts returning to what her presence meant. She was _Hermanté_ and no Severus knew that she would play a big part in the war. His only worry was what side she would ultimately end up on.

His disdain for Divination as a subject was no secret; however, Severus found that it was hard to deny the accuracy of the prophecies Dumbledore put his faith in. Whilst he found it difficult to see Hermione Granger, Gryffindor extraordinaire, as anything but a pedestal for all that was sickeningly good in the world, Albus seemed to think there was a danger in the possibility of her loyalties changing.

As if his thoughts had triggered it, he suddenly clutched at his arm, hissing as pain seared through the Dark Mark. He should have expected it, given that his last meeting with the Dark Lord had been over a week previous and, by this time, Voldemort would have heard of Granger's new position within the school.

_I'm surprised he didn't call me any sooner,_ Severus thought with a resigned sigh, making his way quickly to the cupboard and pulling out his cloak and mask. He quickly contacted the Headmaster via the Floo and made his way out of the school.

The night was cold and sent shivers running down his spine. He pulled his cloak tighter and hurried his pace. If there was one thing that Voldemort punished instantly, it was lateness, and Severus, despite his position within the confines of Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards, was not given any leeway. The moment he reached the edge of the wards, he pulled his mask over his face and Apparated.

He appeared in a small clearing in a forest and a quick glance around showed him that only the members of Voldemort's most Inner Circle were present. He found himself before the select few that Voldemort trusted above all. Wormtail was notably absent, no longer shivering by a tree as his Master approached the clearing.

Severus dropped to one knee, his head bowed, praying that he wasn't about to meet a slow and painful death. It was rare when one of the lower-ranking members was granted the opportunity to appear before the Inner Circle and even rarer when they survived such meetings. Voldemort approached him but he remained with his face lowered, waiting for the order to stand.

A few tense moments passed before Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the clearing. "Rise."

Severus stood quickly, meeting Voldemort's gaze at last. The man's appearance made him feel ill every time he was forced to look upon it; in fact, 'man' was a very loose term in Voldemort's case. He was more reptilian than human.

"You have failed to bring me news, Severus."

He inclined his head a little, waiting for Voldemort's permission before replying. He was given a slow nod and he straightened himself. "I was not permitted to leave the castle, my Lord. Whilst Dumbledore believes I spy for him, he was not willing to allow news to become public any sooner than absolutely necessary. I, myself, found out only when she arrived."

Voldemort nodded, seeming to accept his explanation, but no one could ever be sure what the wizard was thinking and only a fool would try to find out. Severus was no fool.

"I wonder, Severus, has Dumbledore let his pet Death Eater in on our little prophecy?"

Severus nodded, knowing that there was no point in lying in this instance. All cards had been seen by both sides in respect to the prophecy; the only information that was not public was the death of Hermione's parents, the news being hidden in order to protect her for as long as possible.

"Then you are aware of the importance Hermione Granger has in this war?"

"I am."

"Excellent." Voldemort's face broke into a smile, or rather the closest thing to a smile that his form allowed. "We have a little mission for you, Severus."

Frowning, the Potion's Master nodded slowly. To refuse was to die. His only hope was that he would be able to deliver.

"If you have heard of the prophecy, you will be aware that the girl can be tempted to join us." Severus nodded and Voldemort continued, "I want you to tempt her, Severus. I want you to befriend her. I want you to teach her all that you know to be true. She is an intelligent girl, make her an intelligent offer. An offer that she cannot refuse."

"I will, my Lord, but, teacher or no, she is friends with Harry Potter."

"Do not worry about Harry Potter," Voldemort said, smiling again, "he will be taken care of."

"Yes, my Lord."

Sensing the dismissal in Voldemort's voice, Severus bowed slightly and turned to leave. He had only taken a few steps when the skin on the back of his neck prickled and he turned around once more.

"And, Severus," Voldemort said, stepping closer, his wand outstretched. "_Crucio_!"

Severus was only vaguely aware of falling to the ground as every nerve ending seemed to be on fire. He knew nothing but pain. His world began and ended at his aching fingertips. Time seemed irrelevant; all he knew was the searing agony that seemed to be ripping him apart from the inside. He could feel the blood in his veins beginning to tingle and swell, forcing the veins to expand, pushing against muscle and bone, forcing the skin around them to throb. When he was completely conscious, he knew that his appearance altering potions made the effect worse, but at that moment, he knew nothing.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended. Panting a little, Severus pulled himself to his feet and faced Voldemort. He inclined his head, hoping that the gesture looked respectful. He could not have trusted himself to speak, so he remained silent.

"Do not keep things from me again."

Severus nodded, taking those words as a dismissal, and Apparated. Without turning his back this time. He landed on his knees by a tree at the edge of the Hogwarts Grounds and gasped, taking in as much air as his burning lungs would allow. He removed his mask, and wished he had the strength to rid himself of his robes as well. He despised them for what they stood for and wished to spend as little time as possible in them. He remained where he was, not even attempting to move, until a noise from within the gates drew his attention. He quickly drew his wand, aiming at the unsuspecting victim, but lowered it a moment later when the figure came into full view.

"Professor Snape!"

He resisted the urge to groan, although he wasn't sure in what way he wanted to groan. There was the fact that an incredibly beautiful woman was running towards him, dressed in nothing but nightwear, but there was also the fact that that person was Hermione Granger. Both thoughts elicited completely different types of groan, therefore he allowed himself, instead, to sigh in exasperation.

"What do you want, Professor Granger?" he asked, hoping that his voice did not crack. He knew he had not thrown up whilst in the throws of Crucio, but it had been a close call, as the taste in his mouth, and the dryness off his throat proved.

"I-I felt…I don't know, but-but you were-"

"For goodness sakes, woman, calm down before you asphyxiate."

She nodded her head, but he spotted the fire in her eyes as she leaned against the tree for support. A few minutes later, her breathing had returned to normal and she looked at him again. She scrunched up her face and blinked a few times, as if she were trying to focus on him and Severus was reminded of the way she had reacted to his presence earlier that day.

"Are you all right, Professor?"

Severus wasn't sure who was more shocked. He was clearly going insane. The Cruciatus Curse had finally done it. Not only had he asked after her wellbeing, but he had had spoken in unison with Hermione Granger.

He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her again. Her lips curled into a smile that she was obviously attempting to hide and he couldn't stop the same response himself. He was too tired to try and he was already convinced he was losing his mind, so what did it really matter?

"I'm fine, Professor," she said, finally breaking the silence. "Are you all right?" Severus nodded, but he could tell that his silence had answered the question for her. "We should get you to the Hospital Wing."

"Under absolutely no circumstances," he replied.

"You are clearly suffering the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, Professor; I can see it floating around you. You need medical attention."

Severus wondered if he should comment on the fact that she could _see_ the magic, but he decided that keeping himself out of Poppy's clutches was more important. "I have all the necessary potions in my rooms, Professor. We do not need to disturb Poppy at this time."

Granger smirked and he glared at her. She could clearly see through his feeble excuse. It wasn't that Poppy Pomfrey was disagreeable to be around, simply that the staff did not particularly appreciate being one of her patients. Whilst she was considered mothering to the students, the words the staff used when in her care were somewhat…stronger.

"I'll tell you what, Professor Snape," she said, "if you allow me to make sure that you make it to your rooms in one piece, alert Albus, and take your potions, I will refrain from telling Poppy."

Severus continued to glare at her, not appreciating that he was bargaining for decisions he made for himself on a regular basis. However, he saw no other way out of the situation that did not involve Poppy, thus he found himself nodding his head.

Granger made no move to help him to his feet, which he was eternally grateful for. He could not think of any way to explain to Dumbledore how he had hexed the _Hermanté_. He was also wondering if she couldn't take him at the moment anyway. He was suffering more than he had in a while and her powers were clearly beginning to materialise.

They walked through the grounds in silence, Granger remaining a few steps behind him. He preferred to think that she was doing so because, as a student, that had always been the case, however, part of him knew she was behind him so that she would be able to tell if he were about to fall over. Neither commented on that fact, and Severus was glad to see that she had acquired some sense.

They made their way slowly to the doors of the castle and continued at the same pace through the hallways and down into the dungeons. When they reached the wall to his quarters, he muttered, "_Círdan,_" hoping that she would neither overhear nor understand if she did. Her muffled snort of laughter told him he was unsuccessful.

"You're a Lord of the Rings fan?" she asked, following him into the small entrance room.

"No, I merely chose the word at random," he answered with a slight sneer. Her smile told him that she had detected his sarcasm and he wasn't sure whether or not he appreciated that. The thought that she was able to read him so well after less than a week, when he was not particularly seeking out her company, did not sit well with him.

The door to his right led to his laboratory and, loath though he was to allow her admittance, he knew he should not enter it in his current state. The walk to the castle, and then to his rooms, had taken its toll, as he had kept a reasonably quick pace in order not to show any more weakness than was absolutely necessary. He did not wish to enter the room in the event that he lost his balance and upset some of his more delicate potions and ingredients. He sighed and waved his hand, lowering the wards he had cast over the lab.

"The door to your right leads to my private laboratory. The potions I require are in the right hand cabinet at the far end. Touch nothing else."

He left her standing in the entrance room and entered his living room, resisting the urge to simply collapse on the chair. He continued ahead and entered his room, finally removing his Death Eater robes and placing them, along with the mask, in his cupboard. He could deal with cleaning them later. He had learned the hard way that it was not wise to leave them sitting out, or an unsuspecting house-elf may decide to take them for washing and end up with an _Obliviate_ for his efforts.

_Or, at least he _should_ have,_ Severus thought angrily. _Why Dumbledore insists on trusting a house-elf, least of all one that used to belong to Lucius Malfoy, is beyond me._

Severus had no disrespect, per se, for house-elves, but he knew their place, as did they. Trusting one with the secret that could spell the end of his life were it leaked was not high on his list of good ideas. However, he and Albus had very different opinions on what a good idea was.

"Professor?"

He turned to see Hermione Granger standing in the doorway to his bedroom, clearly not sure whether or not entering would be a good idea. However much he wished to keep her out, Severus sensed that his strength was coming to an end. He sat on the edge of the bed and he could tell from the look on her face that his fatigue and pain were evident.

He did not like to show weakness in front of anyone, but, to be fair, she had sensed his pain from the castle and felt compelled to come to his aid. Whilst he did not particularly want help from anyone, he could not deny that he appreciated it. Despite that, he had absolutely no intention of vocally inviting her into his bedchamber.

Hermione seemed to understand that she would not be getting an invitation and took a tentative step forward, as if she were expecting he would smite her down should she take another. When nothing seemed to happen, she crossed the room and handed him three vials. He frowned and glanced at them. He had only intended for her to get the two; one for the pain in his nerves and the other to send him into a dreamless sleep. On glancing at the third vial, he had no need to read the label. He looked at her in complete shock.

She frowned. "I don't know what it is, but something made me…I mean, I just thought…Something made me think you'd need it."

Severus nodded slowly. He had never really considered it before, but her instincts were correct. The vial she had chosen was the antidote to the appearance altering potions he took, and, while he had never considered using it after being on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse, she was spot on. It would definitely help him. With his body in its natural alignment, the other potions, and his own immune system, would be able to work more quickly at eliminating the pain.

"You are correct, Miss Granger, it will help." He noticed his slip up instantly, but, although she bit her lip, she did not comment. "I will, however, not take them until I retire."

She seemed curious to know what the contents of the third vial was, but she wisely kept her mouth shut on that matter. "Would you like me to rouse Professor Dumbledore on the Floo?"

Severus nodded and rose to his feet as she left his bedroom. His limbs were aching constantly, and, in the sanctity of his own rooms, he was less inclined to hide that fact. By the time he reached the door, he could hear voices in the room. He entered and made his way to his black leather armchair, unable to stop the smile at the absurdity of the matter. Hermione Granger, his former pupil, was kneeling on the emerald green rug in front of his fireplace informing Albus that he had returned from his meeting with the Dark Lord. Had someone told him a few weeks ago that this would happen he would have hexed them on the spot.

"Ah, Severus, how are you feeling?" Albus asked, concern in his eyes. A glare was the only reply the elder man received, but, as it was normal behaviour for Severus, the Headmaster seemed pleased. "Very well. I will allow you to get some sleep, for the moment-"

"How kind of you."

"-and we can discuss this evening's events tomorrow. We won't expect you for breakfast. Come for tea tomorrow at one o'clock."

Severus nodded. "I believe Professor Granger should join us."

"Me?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"What do you expect was the topic of tonight's meeting, Miss Granger?" he said, not even having the energy left to sneer. "Given that you are at the centre of a rather important prophecy and have just accepted the role as Professor, I can hardly think of anything more pressing to discuss."

She seemed upset and, whilst that realisation did not bother him very much, it irked him because she appeared more upset about the being the cause of his current state than the fact that she was one of the Dark Lord's targets. Unless she started concerning herself with her predicament, she would be putting herself in even more danger.

Severus rubbed his eyes and only barely managed to stop himself from sighing. He had always been under the impression that his students were going to end up being the death of him. He ignored the voice that pointed out that she was no longer his student and sat up straighter, setting his jaw to stop a hiss as pain ran up his spine.

Dumbledore had agreed to Granger's presence and had bid them good night. She stood up and turned to look at him expectantly.

"What?"

She frowned. "Well, I have no intention of leaving until you've at least made it into your room. That was the deal."

He growled and used the arms of the chair to help him stand up, without making it look as though he was aiding himself. It didn't work; she noticed.

"I am not an infant, Miss Granger," he hissed. "I do not require tucking in."

Instead of angering her, she seemed amused. "I had no intention of tucking you in, _Severus_, but unless you want Poppy to do just that, I suggest you make a move towards your bedroom."

He wasn't sure he had ever been spoken to in such an impertinent manner by anyone other than Minerva and the knowledge that her prize pupil had picked up the habit was not pleasant. He did not appreciate it from either pupil or mentor and he intended to put a stop to it. As soon as he was sure he was not about to collapse at Granger's feet.

He made it into his bedroom and settled on the edge of his bed. She was standing in his doorway. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Do you plan to watch me undress, Professor?" he asked, making sure not to call her Miss Granger. She had made her point. For every time he called her that, she would use his given name in that…manner she had of delivering it. He wasn't sure how she managed to do it, but she seemed to be able to wield his name in a way that made it a weapon. She managed to make him feel the same way his mother always had when she was scolding him. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

He was pleased to see that she seemed to blush at the comment. She nodded her head and reached for the door handle.

"I won't insult you by saying, 'get well soon', Professor."

"How _kind _of you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow at one."

He nodded his head and she closed the door behind her. He listened to her leaving, hearing the doors click shut. He was preparing to gather what little strength he had in order to reset his wards when he felt a surge of magic.

_The little minx,_ he thought, torn between astonishment, amusement, and anger. She had not only reset his wards, but she had keyed them to accept only his magical signature. A quick test proved they would not even accept her.

He removed his clothing, still unable to believe that she had managed to use Higher Magic so easily. He had ensured that the entrance hall was white, with red and bright blue lines painted above the door frames for the specific purpose of being used in correlation with protection spells. He had not, however, expected Hermione to be able to be able to deal with Higher Magic without the correct university training.

He settled himself into his bed, taking the antidote to his potions first. The pain of his bones realigning was made worse by the remains of the Cruciatus Curse that still coursed through him, but the feeling of being back in his own body a few moments later filled him with relief. He took the other potions, placing the vials on his cabinet beside the empty bottle that had contained the headache potion he had taken.

The potions began to work instantly and, in his relief, he almost wanted to thank Granger for giving him the antidote. How she had known it would help was a mystery, but at that moment, he did not care. She was going to be very powerful; anyone who thought otherwise was clearly lacking any intelligence. It was a wonder that the Dark Lord had not thought to recruit her, even without the powers of _Hermanté_. Although, the fact that she was Muggle-born was clearly an issue, even with the prophecy. The Death Eaters, he was sure, were not too keen on having her. Of course, few of them knew that the Dark Lord himself was a Mudblood.

Sighing, he rolled onto his side, the pain in his back simply too much to handle lying on it any more. He whispered, "_Nox_," and closed his eyes, feeling the Dreamless Sleep potion beginning to work.

Severus tried to clear his mind, but one thought remained. He couldn't picture Hermione Granger at Voldemort's side, but he also knew that, when she fully became _Hermanté_, she would cease to be Hermione Granger as they knew her. All they could do was hope that, when the time came, the new Hermione Granger would find that her place was with them.

xxxxx

**TBC…**

**Note: **This is the longest chapter I've ever written in the history of ever! So please don't hassle me for updates right away! I've got the next chapter started and, while I doubt it will be this long, it will be long.

**Note 2:** Heliona was distraught that I was making Peter have redeemed himself at the end of his life, but I would like to point out that I never do anything without reason and that we do only know Hermione's viewpoint at the moment.


	5. When Complication Reigns

**Notes: **First off, I would like to apologise for the length of time it has taken to get this chapter to you. After an incredibly long stint of writer's block, I quickly discovered that this chapter was not going to cooperate with me for reasons best known only to itself. I won't bore you with excuses, I only hope you enjoy. Once more, I apologise for the long wait.

A huge thanks to my new beta, Beluah Page. I love ya!

There are a few notes at the end of this chapter for some of you.

xxxxx

**Part Four: When Complication Reigns **

xxxxx

The morning following Snape's meeting with Voldemort, Hermione awoke with a strange feeling of trepidation about her meeting with Dumbledore and Snape. She was unsure as to how her presence would help matters, but eternally grateful that, for once, she was being informed of matters that influenced her life instead of having the decisions made for her. She would not deny that Dumbledore's manipulation still angered her, but it seemed that Snape had as much liking for being left in the dark as she did, and for once, she was benefiting from that.

She sighed and rolled out of bed, making her way into the bathroom for her morning shower. As much as she wanted to sink into the tub for an hour, she knew that would not be a good idea; she had a lot of work to do. Whilst her classroom was now clean and tidy, she had been toying with the idea of rearranging it, and on her way back to her rooms the previous night, had decided to do so.

Despite the fact that she did not wish to think about him, or anything relating to him, her thoughts returned to the Potions Master. Having had the time to think about the previous evening in a rational manner, she had deduced that her _Hermanté_ powers were beginning to have a serious effect on the way she viewed the world around her. The disorienting feeling she was experiencing regarding Snape was still unsettling and she was unable to figure out exactly what was causing it, but, if nothing else, the way she had sensed and, indeed, seen the pain and magic surrounding him the previous evening had convinced her that a visit to Madam Pomfrey could be in her best interests.

She dressed quickly and made her way to breakfast, knowing that the entire staff would have returned to Hogwarts and were likely to be at breakfast. She took a deep breath before entering the Great Hall, still feeling a little out of place amongst the professors since previous discussions about her appointment had become known. She had meant everything she had said to Filius the day before and only hoped that she would be able to do everything she hoped.

As her luck would have it, Madam Pomfrey was making her way towards the doors as Hermione entered.

"Good morning, Hermione, how are you feeling today?"

"Actually, I was hoping to stop by the Hospital Wing this morning for a chat if you have the time."

Poppy smiled and nodded. "Of course. I assume this has something to do with a certain affliction you may soon become addled with?"

Hermione nodded, not really wanting to go into it at that precise moment in time. She knew that Madam Pomfrey must have been informed, although Dumbledore had only told Hermione of that when she had prompted him to. It amazed her how Poppy always seemed to know what was going on with everyone, and yet Dumbledore did not include her in the list he had originally given her of those 'in the loop'.

"Well, come along when you're done with breakfast, dear, and I'll have some hot cocoa ready."

Hermione smiled and began to make her way to the table. If there was one thing she loved about Poppy it was her ability to treat the staff like her children, no matter their age. She even recalled the way Minerva had been treated to tutting and fussing the morning she had been flattened by a steamroller. Hermione was still trying to get her to confess just how, exactly, that had happened. All she knew was that instead of turning up for Hermione's lesson that morning, Hermione had found Minerva in the hospital wing, flat as a pancake mumbling something about Snape, a bottle of Firewhisky and a rather adventurous Portkey.

"Good morning," Hermione said with a bright smile, taking a seat next to Minerva and opposite Hooch. She was greeted with a nod of acknowledgement by most of the staff.

"Morning, Hermione," Minerva said with a smile through her toast.

Hermione shook her head, rather amused by the Transfigurations Professor's resemblance to Ron at that particular moment, and piled her plate with toast and scrambled eggs.

"How are your preparations coming along?" Minerva asked, finally free of her toast. "Are you ready for the term to begin?"

Hermione felt all eyes on her, some surreptitiously, some blatantly, but she simply smiled at Minerva and nodded. "I think so. I've still got a few kinks to iron out in my curriculum for the latter part of the year; I'm hoping to do a research project for the NEWTS, but I'm still waiting to finalise it." She glanced at Snape and he nodded slightly. "Other than that, all I really want to do is rearrange my classroom a bit. It's just a little too stuffy, even for me."

Minerva nodded. "You've done a marvellous job so far. Perhaps you could ask that intriguing young gentleman you met in the Highlands to help you with the rest; he offered to rearrange a few things for you, didn't he?" She smirked.

"Yes, I believe one of them was my face," Hermione said accusingly. The rest of the staff was all looking at her more curiously now, but Snape had a distinct smirk lurking around the corners of his mouth and Hermione knew instantly that Minerva must have told him of all her rather embarrassing excursions during her Apparition training. She really was beginning to wonder just how well the two House Heads really got on.

"Well, I suppose you surprised him a little, landing in his lap like that."

"And I wonder how that could possibly have happened."

"Yes, I wonder."

Hermione shook her head at Minerva and quickly finished up the last of her breakfast. "Well, I have a few things to take care of." She said her goodbyes and quickly headed towards the Hospital Wing.

There was something almost calming about the empty halls of Hogwarts during the holidays. It was something that Hermione had never been particularly aware of, at least not in the sense that she was now feeling. It was almost as if the castle was waiting for something to happen, a gentle sort of anticipation that could never be seen nor heard, and yet, to Hermione, was just as tangible as if it were written on a piece of paper she was holding.

She wandered the hallways slowly, trying not to think about the fact that her time as a teacher was about to begin. It was both exciting and terrifying; she had no idea what she was doing. For as much as she wanted to convince herself that it was no more difficult that teaching Neville Potions (in fact, part of her was sure it would be ten times easier), she knew that it was not the same thing. She had no idea how she was going to get respect from her students; especially the Slytherins, more especially the Seventh Years, and, without a doubt, Draco Malfoy.

She rounded the corner by the Hospital Wing and entered the large room she was accustomed to seeing Harry in, and walked through to the opposite end, knocking gently on Poppy's office door. She had talked with the Mediwitch when the woman had returned to the castle and had been bombarded with baby photos of the woman's latest grandchild. She had never really thought much of her teachers' private lives, but was pleased that Poppy (who had instantly insisted Hermione call her by her given name) was one of the few willing to share with her in that regard. If she had ever wondered where the older woman got her mothering instinct, the recently discovered knowledge that she had twelve grown up children and fourteen grandchildren would have answered that.

"Come in, Hermione."

She slowly entered the cosy room, shutting the door behind her, and smiled. "How did you know it was me?"

"Because few of the staff would visit me here, of all places. You'll find that they dislike the Hospital Wing and, as Severus would add, have a few rather ingenious ideas of where I should stick my wand."

Hermione chuckled and felt her cheeks redden a little. She had always thought of Madam Pomfrey as another Molly Weasley, but the woman had a mischievous twinkle in those eyes of hers and a sharp instinct about things that were going on around her. She always knew what was going on around the castle.

"Speaking of, I hear you had to patch up a rather stubborn and grumpy Potions Master last night."

"I tried to talk him into coming here," Hermione said, raising her arms a little in defence.

"Hah! I'll bet that was met with a few expletives."

Hermione smiled. "Just a few."

"Take a seat, dear." Poppy motioned to the two large armchairs by the fire and busied herself with the cocoa.

Hermione sat in the left-hand chair after a glance told her the right-hand one was the most used and likely Poppy's favourite chair. She had a favourite chair in the Gryffindor Common Room and she hated to find it occupied; it was her favourite reading chair. Therefore, she always gave respect to other people's preferences and made herself comfortable elsewhere.

She glanced around the fairly small room; small, that was, in comparison with the other offices she had been in, including her own, which was off the Arithmancy classroom. The windows were surrounded by a gentle hint of gold and green, with a pattern of poppies burnt into the wood. The desk was placed against the back wall, facing the fireplace. It was rather large and had several levels of shelves and drawers that reminded Hermione of what might be a busy row of shelves in Ollivander's for all that it was seemingly messy, but no doubt meticulously organised.

The floor, unlike most other offices, was carpeted. It was soft and fluffy, and Hermione wanted to remove her shoes and run her toes through almost grass-like material springing up from it. Leaning back in her chair, she studied the mantel. It was covered, as was the wall above it, with photographs of countless children and family units. The main photograph, in the centre of the wall, was incredibly large and full of people. Children were running out of the frame and reappearing moments later in the arms of a parent (usually upside down and covered in mud or chocolate). It was chaotic and reminded Hermione slightly of the Weasley household. It was definitely too much for her to ever want, but it gave her a nice sense of comfort to see the way the huge family interacted.

Settling further into her chair, Hermione decided that she liked Poppy's office. It was warm, welcoming, and cosy. It also had no indication of any house. Most of the Professors, whether they were House Heads or not, had at least one small nod towards the House they were in when they had gone through Hogwarts. It tended to be hard to find, but Hermione had an eye for subtlety in that regard, and she saw nothing that indicated which House Poppy had been in. She had, of course, always assumed the woman had been a Hufflepuff, given her mothering nature, but she was no longer so sure.

"It's not as messy as it seems, I promise." Poppy smiled and handed Hermione a steaming mug before settling into the chair facing her. "Everything is in its rightful place, although I know most things by heart. Photographic memory," she said, tapping her right temple.

"That must be handy."

"It is, but I find that I probably had to work harder than most. It's all good and well being able to remember things, but if you have no idea what they mean, what good are they?"

"I never really thought about it like that before," Hermione said. "When I was younger, I always wished I had a photographic memory. It seemed like it would make it so much easier to learn much more in a shorter space of time."

"Remember? Yes. Learn? Not really. I spent my sixth and seventh year studying medicine to get a head start and I was barely above the second year students when I went to St. Mungo's to study."

"I'll bet that was frustrating."

"Just a little." Poppy smiled and took a long sip of her cocoa. Hermione watched her.

If there was one thing that had always annoyed her mother, it was Hermione's tendency to watch people eating and drinking. She had always done it, ever since she was a child. There was just something engaging about how people reacted to food and drink; the way her father's nose always scrunched up when he tasted something he did not care for, the way her mother smiled with her eyes when she tasted Hermione's pancakes, the way her aunt's mouth puckered at the taste of something sour, and, Hermione noted, the way Poppy's eyes closed and her shoulders pulled in as she smelled the aroma of the hot chocolate just after taking a sip.

When she realised Poppy was looking at her, Hermione took a gulp from her own cup, letting out a breath when it burned her tongue, and frowned. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was just wondering, what house were you in when you attended Hogwarts?" She looked around again. "It's just that I can't see anything to indicate a house."

Poppy smiled. "You're not quite looking for the right thing," she said mysteriously, and left it at that. "So, my dear, how are you feeling? I assume something has happened."

"Nothing too serious."

"I should hope not, or I would think I would have heard about it by now."

"Of course." Hermione sighed. "Things are starting to _feel_ a little different," she said. "Mainly, it's nothing concrete; just a sense of things altering. In my perceptions at least. I've had a few brief spells of disorientation and last night I could see the Dark Magic around Professor Snape."

"You could _see_ it?" Poppy asked, a little surprised.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, there was just something…_there_. I could tell from the castle that it was the Cruciatus Curse, and I just knew I had to get to him. Although, it doesn't help that I start to feel dizzy a lot when looking at the Professor."

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes. It's almost like I'm seeing double, but both images are on top of each other and they don't seem to match. Does that make any sense?"

A slow smile spread over Poppy's face. "More than you know. I can't explain just now, I'd need to have a chat with Albus and Severus, but that, at least, is something I think I may be able to fix. Right now, however, I'd like to concentrate on these spells of yours and, no, I don't mean the kind you do with your wand." She placed her cup on the small table to the left of her chair and leaned towards Hermione. "How many have you had?"

"Well, two, but the second time Professor Snape arrived and that turned into a different kind of dizziness."

"Would you mind?" Poppy asked, pulling out her wand, and Hermione shook her head. She knew that Poppy would have carried out the tests whether she minded or not, but it was nice to be asked.

The Mediwitch stood and crossed the short distance between them and began running her wand around Hermione. The swishing movement soon caused Hermione to blink a few times and eventually, she could see a trail of colour following the tip, almost like the tail end of a shooting star.

"Hermione?"

Poppy's voice caused her to jerk in surprise. She blinked and the world returned to normal. "Sorry, Poppy, I just…"

"It's all right, I know. Your power channels are opening. Slowly, but they are opening. You'll soon find that you can see things more clearly and, most definitely, differently. You will start to sense magic and it's probable that your proximity to Severus may start to prove a serious issue," she finished contemplatively.

Hermione did not ask why, though she wanted to. "What should I do? The students will be arriving tomorrow morning."

"I don't think it will be cause for alarm. The children should cause you little bother magically. Perhaps the Seventh Years and some of the Sixth Years will affect you slightly, but it's the magnitude of power a Witch or Wizard has that will upset your senses. Mr Potter may prove difficult, but I don't believe he is in any of your classes."

Hermione frowned. "No, he's not, but he is my best friend and I would like to spend some time with him."

Poppy smiled. "It shouldn't be a problem, so long as you inform him that I am to be notified at the slightest indication of a problem."

"I will."

Poppy nodded. "Good. I would, however, steer clear of Severus until I can speak to him."

"I have to meet with Professors Snape and Dumbledore at one o'clock."

"Ah," Poppy let out a breath. "Well, he was due a scolding from me for last night anyway, I suppose I can visit him just now. There's nothing like scared Slytherin in the morning."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't think I've ever heard of Snape being called scared before; however, if anyone were capable, Poppy, I'd say it was you."

"Why, thank you, Hermione."

They placed their mugs on Poppy's desk and headed to the door; Hermione turned, indicating the etching on the window ledge. "I never would have picked you for an Olympus graduate. Which House were you? I hear they have three."

Poppy smiled. "The Greek system is a little different. We only used our Houses for sports events and there was no such thing as mixed living for the males and females. I've been trying to talk Albus into changing that for years."

Hermione chuckled as they made their way through the halls. She could understand Poppy's point of view, but she had to admit that things just would not be the same if they separated the houses. Her life at Hogwarts, whilst less dangerous, would have been entirely different without Harry and Ron, and she couldn't imagine her life without them.

She parted ways with Poppy as they neared the dungeons, and headed to her classroom. As she entered, she started a cheery fire in the grate with a flick of her wrist before moving into the centre of the room and trying to figure out how she wanted to rearrange things. She looked up at the small podium that her desk and blackboard sat on and frowned. She wasn't sure she wanted to lord above her students; there had been times whilst she was being taught that it had been rather daunting to see a professor (one rather sarcastic one in particular) glaring down at her. She decided that would be the first thing to go.

A few hours later, Hermione pulled herself up onto her desk and glanced around the room. It was almost unrecognisable as the room she had been taught in over the last three years; it was now _her _room. The desks were set in a semicircle with her own at what would be the centre of the circle. The space where the raised area had been and around five feet in front of it, where the door was to the left, was left empty. The only thing in the area was the stairway to her office against the back wall.

She had decided early on that she would want to do practical demonstrations with her class. Whilst she enjoyed the theory of Arithmancy, as did a select few of her students, most of them would learn better through practical application. There was only so much practical Arithmancy that could be done in a school, but Hermione had been working on devising a few safe alternatives to teach her classes. She had had to devise them from scratch as no one had ever tried and succeeded before, but she was almost there.

"Perhaps you are unaware of the time, Professor Granger."

Hermione jumped and turned to Professor Snape with a frown. "Do you have to do that? I'm tempted to get you a bell so that I can hear when you're coming."

Hermione was startled when Snape almost growled. "What did Minerva tell you?"

"Nothing." Hermione tried to stop her face from twisting into a grin, but she was unsuccessful. "Minerva got you a bell?"

"No."

"Of course, Professor." She jumped down from the table and picked up her jumper. She had forgone her robes and settled, instead, for her Muggle clothes. She could see that Snape was not comfortable with it and she rolled her eyes as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. She turned to look at him, planning on asking his assistance on finalising her demonstrations when the world blurred and she stumbled.

She felt his arms wrap tightly around her as she was lowered gently to the floor. She sat back and kept her eyes closed, hoping that would stop the walls from floating in that disconcerting manner that they had chosen just before she closed them.

"Professor Granger."

She heard his voice and yet it seemed like too much effort to answer him, so she blocked him out, instead, focusing her efforts to continue breathing." The spinning sensation in her head slowed to a stop and she became aware of a gruff voice ordering her to open her eyes.

"I can hear you, Severus," she ground out, having noticed he had repeatedly called her Miss Granger. She realised that it was difficult for her Professors, but she was being selfish. She couldn't do this if they kept talking to her like a child.

"Then answer me, _Professor_."

Hermione sighed and slowly opened her eyes. "Unless you intend to give me an explanation as to why you seem to make my world turn upside down, and stop looking at me like that - I hardly meant in the romantic way, you dolt - then I suggest you give me time to stop the walls becoming the ceiling. I take it no explanation will be forthcoming?" Snape didn't reply, but she had the feeling he was still trying to work out whether or not his ears were playing tricks on him or she had actually called him a 'dolt'. "No? I didn't think so. Now help me up."

At that, Snape did start. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, almost wanting him to make an issue out of it just so that she could release some of the power that was beginning to build up around her. There was something that Snape was doing that was making her ill and if she was expected to respect his privacy, even when it was proving detrimental to her health, then he could bloody well help her to her feet since he was the reason she had ended up on the floor in the first place.

He growled a little under his breath, but took a hold of her arms and helped her to her feet. "Watch how quick you are to demand, Miss Granger, especially in the presence of a Death Eater."

"You don't scare me, Severus." Hermione noticed he was shocked to see that she meant it, just as she was rather shocked he had actually _said_ he was a Death Eater. "And until you stop treating me like a child, then I retain the right to act like one."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I make no apologies, Professor. You were, only a few months ago, one of my students. By all rights you still should be."

Hermione sighed and leaned on him slightly more, hoping that it would not prompt him to remove the support he was still giving her; she wasn't quite ready to walk steadily on her own yet. "Professor, I lost my childhood the day my parents were killed, some would even argue that I lost it long before that. My aunt Linda for one."

"I held a position of authority over you. That is not something that will disappear suddenly just because you wish it."

"You're right," she said, turning her head to look at him despite the headache she was giving herself. "But I'm not about to disappear suddenly just because you wish it."

"If it worked like that, Professor, this school would have been empty years ago."

xxxxx

The days had seemed to fly by, and Hermione wasn't sure where the time had gone. Between reading her student files, sorting out her classes, and fixing the classroom up the way she wanted it, she soon found that it was Saturday night. The students were to arrive on the Hogwarts Express the following day and Hermione was a nervous wreck. Her only saving grace had been Harry.

Whilst her meeting with Snape and Dumbledore had caused her to get little sleep the previous night, she had done her best not to think about it at all. That she should befriend Snape to help his role as a spy went without saying; it was more the reality of the situation that she chose to push to the back of her mind. It was the last thing she needed on top of her growing powers and her worry about the beginning of the school year. Harry had been more than willing to be her ear.

Since leaving Grimmauld Place, she had felt more confident in herself and her capabilities, as if she had cried everything out and all that was left was the determination to succeed. She had been sending letters to Harry on a daily basis, finally glad to be able to vent all her frustrations without having to lie.

Harry had, thankfully, made up with Ron the same night she had informed them of her new position, but she had no doubt that Ron would be less likely to forgive her so quickly. She had really hurt him, and even Harry was finding it difficult to keep up his friendship with Ron, knowing that he was privy to information that he simply was not allowed to tell anyone.

She sighed and curled closer to the fire. She was still wrapped in her fluffy dressing gown, her damp hair curling wildly around her face, as she prepared to finally open the book Professor Snape had given her. She scanned it to find that it contained the recovered parts of Hermanté's journal and the complete journals of the three _Hermanté_ that came after her. There was a preface put together by the author, but as it was written in Modern Greek, Hermione decided to skip it; she could ask Poppy to translate it later.

She had learned Ancient Greek in order to help her with her studies and, therefore, found it difficult to adapt to the modern language. Luckily, the excerpts from Hermanté's journal were still in their original form, and Hermione had no trouble reading them. She spent a few hours losing herself in the _Hermanté _of the past, and she was so engrossed she didn't feel the faint stirring of magic within her until she reached the final paragraph of the book. She glanced over the prophecy again, her blood seeming to buzz through her veins.

'_In the future, in times to come, when the dreaded skull grips the hearts of the many, a power shall arise like no other. Two opposites of morality linked together by fate will fight to the end, where only one shall survive. Within this great battle I place my power. I will hand it down to the next rightful child, and when she is of age she will help whom she chooses, but be wary of the power I charge. Anger will cloud and Passion will interfere, and if her choice is not true, Death will become all.'_"

She took a deep breath and looked into the fire as the low flames danced in the grate, sending shadows flickering across the room. She felt hyper-charged, as if everything around her had a permeable magical form and she could feel it, could bend it to her will.

A vague part of her recalled Bertha Jorkins' final prediction, telling that she would be at the heart of the battle for years before her time, bound by a friendship of three, and she almost snorted. The part of her that wasn't revelling in the power that surrounded her found that it couldn't comprehend how she was still alive. It was clear that she was the only one that could fit that description, and she had yet to become any kind of target. Her parents' death had been deliberate, they were meant to die, but no one had come after her specifically. Yet.

And then it made sense. _The woman would be struck by a great tragedy before her coming of age_. Her coming of age, as she had discovered in the book, was of no set time. _Hermanté _coming of age was not physical, it was emotional and mental. Voldemort could not have predicted when that would be. To strike too soon would ensure that the power of _Hermanté_ would be lost, and then she would be of no use to him.

_She would be marked by nail and stone and touched by the desires for both sides._

Both sides. Something was meant to attract her to both sides. She felt sick, or a part of her did. That same part of her also realised that she was no longer sitting. She was walking around the room, searching for the one thing that seemed to be calling to her.

Her parents had been killed so that she could come of age, she realised absently, continuing her search of her rooms. That was why Dumbledore had told her not to let anyone know. She had had to mourn in silence and pretend that her parents were still alive. The only people that had been allowed to know were members of the Order.

_And they wondered why I didn't grieve properly._

Hermione recalled her meeting with Dumbledore on her first night back at Hogwarts; her first night as a teacher. Dumbledore had told her everything then, everything about her parents' death, and how they had covered it up. From Snape's place in Voldemort's inner circle, he had been able to determine that Voldemort believed the lack of confirmation of her parents' deaths to be a failure in the act actually taking place, and the Death Eaters that had committed the act were killed instantly. Therefore, Hermione's tragedy had, to Voldemort's knowledge, not taken place, and she would not yet come of age until she was struck by misfortune. There was no point in attacking her.

As the pull of magic grew stronger, Hermione stopped thinking altogether, and instead she followed her instincts. A few moments later, she found herself on her hands and knees beside her desk, watching Crookshanks sleep. His form seemed to be surrounded by an almost physical blanket of colour. There was a blue light all over him, and Hermione couldn't help herself, she reached out and touched it, absently noting that her own skin seemed to be surrounded in silver light.

The moment her hands entered the blue light, Crookshanks shot awake, and the light turned dark red as the animal screeched, baring his teeth and nails. Hermione jumped and fell backwards, watching in shock as her cat ran full pelt into the bathroom.

Her vision had returned to normal and her head was aching. She pulled herself into a sitting position and struggled to stand, noting that her entire body seemed reluctant to co-operate. There was a sudden, sharp knock at her door and she slowly made her way there, muttering the password for the entrance to appear.

She stood in shock for a moment before clearing her throat. "Sorry, Professor, please come in."

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger, I'm-"

"_Professor _Granger."

Snape pursed his lips. "Of course." He sneered. "How could I forget? Well, _Professor_ Granger, I simply came to deliver your updated timetable."

Hermione almost growled at him. Whatever understanding they had reached the day before was gone. She was supposed to befriend him, although they had agreed that it must appear gradual to the outside world (although Harry was to be brought into the loop), and yet he continued to act the same as always: with sarcasm and a glare.

He thrust the paper toward her and she took it, noting that he seemed to be having difficulty looking at her. She frowned until a small breeze alerted her to the fact that her robe was open slightly more than she would have liked. She felt the blush rising in her cheeks as she tightened it and glanced back up at him, refusing to let him see her embarrassment was affecting her.

"Thank you for delivering it, Professor Snape."

"Don't thank me," he said, his voice sounding more surly than usual. "Albus seemed to think that it was important you get it right now and that the house-elves were somehow less than capable of delivering it."

"Well, thank you anyway." Hermione felt her eyes blurring when she looked at him, and surmised that whatever magic had taken hold of her earlier had clearly not dissipated fully yet. There was a tingling running through her as if to clarify that, and she felt herself sway a little. She was beginning to get angry at Snape; this was all his fault.

"Are you ill, Professor?"

Hermione took a deep breath and forced her vision to clear. "Just a little dizzy, Professor. I'll be fine."

Snape nodded, but continued to watch her for more signs of another episode and Hermione suddenly felt ill again, his face seeming to blur once more before her eyes. She glanced down, hoping to clear her head, but his entire body seemed fuzzy and indistinct. She felt herself lurching forward, and was sure that she was about to be introduced to the floor, but was caught before she got very far. Snape turned her around in his arms, so that she was facing the ceiling, in order to look at her, and he seemed to be talking to her, but everything was muffled and all Hermione could focus on was the blinding blue light that was surrounding his hazy form.

She became aware of him picking her up and moving her. She could smell the fire as they approached. Part of her realised that he was planning on Flooing her from her room, but for the most part, she simply tried to focus. The magic that had come alive only minutes before was refusing to stay dormant, and her eyes couldn't seem to cope with looking at Professor Snape. She tried to close them, but they appeared to have a will of their own, as if her insatiable curiosity wouldn't allow her to shut herself off from the new world she was discovering.

After what seemed like an eternity, the magic began to recede and she began to see things clearly – things, of course, being the ceiling of the Hospital Wing where Professor Snape had obviously taken her. He seemed to have a habit of arriving just as she required medical attention. She knew that he believed she had forgotten; that she had repressed the memory of that night that seemed so long ago and she was more than willing to allow him to believe that, but the truth was, she couldn't forget. A part of her didn't want to forget.

She needed to remember the pain, because at first she hadn't been able to feel anything. Her parents were dead and all she had felt was numb. It wasn't until she was physically scratching the skin from her fingers that anything seemed real. It had hurt. The physical pain had hurt and she had let that channel her emotions, finally allowing herself to grieve. It wasn't something she had thought about consciously, but it had helped more than any of the looks of pity the people that knew had been sending her way.

A gentle murmur of voices slowly penetrated the thick haze that had muffled her hearing and she made out Minerva's, Snape's, and Dumbledore's voices. She turned her head, her eyes aching as they fell on the blurry form of the Potions Master. She tried to force her eyes to focus, but nothing seemed to work, and it was not until she glanced at Dumbledore that she realised her vision was fine. It was only Professor Snape that was blurry and she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find out why.

"…must be a reason why it chose now to materialise, Albus."

"I agree," Snape said, glancing in her direction. Or at least she assumed he was glancing in her direction, she couldn't quite tell. The colours, which she assumed were auras, were not present, but the pain of trying to look at Snape was too much. She chose instead to focus on Dumbledore as he walked toward her.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she murmured, noting Dumbledore's momentary confusion at her Muggle term.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Minerva asked, her concern evident in both her features and her voice.

"I-I don't know. I was reading the book Professor Snape gave me on _Hermanté_, and I could feel magic running through me. I could see it. I think I could see auras as well, I didn't know what it was at first, so I tried to touch Crookshanks."

"I would imagine the beast didn't appreciate that," Snape said with a smirk.

"Not exactly," Hermione responded, pulling herself into a sitting position and refusing to look at the Professor. "Professor Dumbledore, I think there's something wrong."

"Yes, I had wondered if Severus' potions would affect your vision at all. Poppy assumed that was the case."

Hermione looked at him, instantly spotting the twinkle in his eyes, before glancing at Minerva. The Transfiguration Professor seemed shocked, and Hermione looked back at Dumbledore. "What do you mean?"

"Severus' appearance is not what it seems, Hermione, and I believe your power as _Hermanté_ can see through glamours of any kind. Including the rather ingenious potions Severus has created to alter his appearance."

"Why would you want to alter your appearance?" Hermione asked, looking at the Potions Master, not really caring that she likely had no right to the answer.

Snape seemed to agree and, therefore, it was Albus who answered her. "There are certain duties to Voldemort that Severus is spared from due to the fact that he is less than attractive."

It took Hermione a moment to realise that Dumbledore clearly meant sexual duties and couldn't help but gag slightly at the thought. She glanced at Snape, and while he still looked blurry, she could see that he was none too happy that Dumbledore had answered her question.

After a moment, she looked away, her eyes not prepared to handle the uneasiness at seeing two images imposed over the top of each other. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before turning to Dumbledore.

"How can I focus so that it doesn't hurt?"

"I'm afraid I know very little of how to focus _Hermanté_ powers, Hermione. Were there no answers in the book Severus gave you?"

Hermione tried to think about the book, but it seemed like weeks since she had read it. She vaguely remembered Alhena Malfoy describing some techniques, but she seemed unable to recall what they were. In fact, the entire book seemed a blur to her, as if her new powers had stopped her from taking it in.

"I think there might be," she finally replied.

"I believe Mrs. Malfoy describes some things that may be of use," Snape said, voicing her thoughts.

"I take it she is related to Draco Malfoy, then," Hermione said, not really expecting any answer other than 'yes'.

Snape nodded and she blinked a few times to stop herself feeling queasy. "I believe she is his great, great aunt. Or so Lucius boasts."

"I'll bet he'd be thrilled to know that her journal will be helping a Mudblood," she said with a smile and Minerva chuckled. Hermione yawned and leaned back against the pillows, sliding down a little further. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven," Minerva said, as Snape moved towards her, holding a potion. She realised that Poppy wasn't there and it took her a moment to remember that the woman had been planning on visiting her youngest child, who was currently heavily pregnant and nearing her due date, and would return early in the morning.

His appearance was beginning to make her eyes ache more so she closed them. She heard Snape sigh but continued to focus on her breathing as something was pressed into her hands.

"Here," he said, almost resignedly. "Drink this."

Not willing to open her eyes, Hermione used her fingers to feel for the top of the vial, only to have it snatched from her hands and replaced a moment later without the cap. She murmured her thanks and risked a glance at it, finding herself a little reluctant to swallow the lumpy, dark green liquid.

"Thank you," she said again, hoping to put off taking it a little longer.

"I'd wait until you've tasted it," Minerva said with a smirk. "You might not want to thank him after that."

She smiled at the woman before glancing at Snape and, for a moment, she clearly saw his aura, even if she couldn't clearly see him. She swallowed the potion in one go, forcing herself not to throw it back up. It tasted worse than Polyjuice. Her disgust was clearly visible as she could hear Minerva and Professor Dumbledore chuckling.

She looked up at Snape accusingly. "You made that taste worse on purpose."

"As amusing as your reaction was, Professor, I can assure you that I did nothing of the sort."

"Liar," she mumbled, well aware that she should probably stop speaking so freely. It was the rogue magic, she was sure.

"Well," Minerva said, a smirk apparent in her voice, "perhaps you should get some sleep, Hermione. I'm sure you'll want to be ready to face the students tomorrow."

She nodded, aware that she was suddenly tired. "What was that potion, anyway?"

"It was just something to calm you and help you sleep. But its main function was to dull your new powers," Minerva answered.

"Surely you should have asked that before swallowing it," Snape said, sneering.

"I didn't need to," she replied. "Your aura was still tinged dark blue." She smirked at him and lay down, snuggling under the blankets. She could hear Snape growling as Minerva and Albus laughed, and she realised that she was thinking rather freely as well, given that she had just thought of Dumbledore by his first name.

_Well, that's one hurdle over, now if only facing the rest of the school was that easy._

She yawned loudly, aware that Minerva was taking the bed next to her, no doubt in case something happened during the night. She could hear Albus talking to Snape as they exited the room, but she didn't even bother to try and hear what they were saying. She was too tired. She had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring, but she did know that her troubles were only just beginning.

xxxxx

Severus rubbed his temples, not sure why every encounter he had with Hermione Granger proceeded to give him a migraine. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had been struck by how sexy she had looked, answering the door in nothing but a robe, her short, wild hair framing her face, he had then caused the girl to collapse.

_What a wonderful boost to the ego,_ he thought sarcastically. _I wonder if Lucius can boast to having caused young women to collapse at his feet through his looks. _

It struck him again that she had seen through his disguise, and he couldn't help but worry that if she could see through it, could the Dark Lord? He quickly shook the thought away, pinning her ability to her powers as _Hermanté_. He had been working for the Dark Lord freely for quite a while before he had turned to Albus Dumbledore for help. The man hadn't seen through it then, and he was unlikely to have done so since.

_Dark blue_. He sneered. _As if it wasn't bad enough that I felt the need to protect her, she had to know it. But, of course, Hermione Granger would have to have read up on colours despite the fact that she wasn't doing Divination or Higher Magic._

He had no doubt that the witch was smart enough to work Higher Magic, but it was university level magic, and therefore the fact that she might have understood the importance of the colours she was seeing hadn't crossed his mind. Then again, it also hadn't crossed his mind that she would be able to see part of his aura. He wasn't even sure he believed in auras. In fact, before that night, he wouldn't have thought _she_ had believed in them.

He felt like storming down to the dungeons, robes billowing, to sneer about her very existence and why he even cared what she thought, but Albus had talked him into accompanying him to his office for a 'chat'. Severus hated Albus' 'chats'. They never really amounted to much and only resulted in irritating him further. Albus had a decidedly annoying perception about him and the last thing he needed was to be accused of being caring for the second time that day. As if it wasn't bad enough that the brats were all arriving tomorrow, Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore were hell bent on ruining his last night of freedom.

"_Lisping Liquorice_!" Albus' voice broke his reverie, and he glanced at the elder man, glaring at the annoying twinkle in the other man's eyes.

_How is it that the man takes such delight in rubbing things in my face? Even when I seem to come out on top of conversations, the old coot always seems to be laughing at me._

He stayed behind Albus until they were in the man's office. Severus made his way to one of the armchairs by the fire, taking the one on the left, as he always did, and waiting until Albus had poured him some tea.

"Well, Severus," Albus began, after they had their tea, "what do you make of today's events?"

"I could care less, Albus." The moment the words left his mouth, Severus regretted them. Albus had that damned smirk on his face.

"Your aura seems to think otherwise."

"My aura," he said through gritted teeth, "is no one's business but mine."

"Quite."

Severus couldn't stop the low growl and felt his anger rising when it only seemed to amuse Albus further. He decided on another tactic and looked down at his tea, swirling the horrid liquid around the cup until Albus decided to stop playing games and get to the point. _The man never stops his games,_ he thought resignedly.

"Well," Albus began, clearing his throat, "I think we can safely say that we will all need to keep an eye on Hermione this week. Is there anything you can remember from the book that might help her when she's in your presence?"

"She could refrain from coming anywhere near me."

"Oh, no, Severus, we can't have you lacking each other's company now, can we?" Severus opened his mouth to assure Albus that, indeed, they could, when the older man continued. "There are no potions you can give her that would allow her to see only one image when she looks at you?"

Severus thought for a moment, but could only come up with one thing that could help, and he was not about to suggest that. However, one look at Albus informed him that the older man knew exactly what he was thinking and was simply forcing Severus to be the one to suggest it.

_That interfering old bastard,_ Severus thought, meeting the man's amused eyes, but refusing to voice his thoughts.

"Come now, Severus, there must be something you've learned as a Potions Master that will help the situation."

"You know fine well there is," he hissed, glaring at Albus. "But I refuse to have that child-"

"Woman," Albus interrupted. He smiled before continuing. "As you are well aware of."

Refusing to rise to the bait, Severus continued. "I refuse to have that _woman_ see through these potions."

"Would it really be so bad, Severus?" Albus asked, frowning a little. "Would it really be so bad to have someone here that could see you for what you really are?"

Severus glared again. "When the person is Hermione Granger, yes, it really would be so bad."

"It would mean less pretending. It must be irritating to have to hide yourself from everyone but myself, Minerva, and Remus Lupin."

"You seem intent on trying to make me sound like a nice person underneath."

"Oh, no one could ever accuse you of that, Severus," Albus said, the irritating twinkle back in his eyes.

There was a moment's pause before Severus sighed, although it came out as more of a growl. "Why do you insist on making it sound like I have a choice, when you are ultimately going to make me give her the potion anyway?"

Albus did not answer, instead he sipped his tea.

_I really hate that man._

Severus was quick to finish his drink and leave Albus' office. He retreated quickly to his dungeons and stormed into his lab; not the most intelligent thing he could have done, he conceded, given the volatile nature of many of the ingredients in his private stores, but it certainly made him feel a little better.

He removed his robes and rolled the up his shirt sleeves. He kicked of his shoes and socks and spread his feet out on the cold concrete floor, taking a moment to centre himself. He worked quickly, but meticulously, for the next hour; chop two dragon scales, grind three mugwort leaves, tip them into a bubbling cauldron of lavender water, stir twelve times counter clockwise, purée eight yew leaves, add along with five drops of asphodel.

He stepped back and sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. The potion he was preparing for Granger would be ready in the morning, and then his torture would really begin.

He had little hope that Granger would be able to refrain from telling Weasley about his change in appearance and the reason for it. It was already hard enough to teach Potter when the boy had knowledge of it, but he had no false hopes that Weasley would be any better when he found out. In fact, the other boy was likely to be worse.

_At least Potter has grown up considerably, but Weasley seems to have missed that part in his evolution. Then again, if his dragon-loving brother is anything to go by, all the male Weasleys, except perhaps Bill, seem to have forgone that stage of growing up._

He shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that, not only had Weasley somehow made it into his seventh year Potions class, but that the boy would make his life a living hell. More so than usual, that was.

He didn't like the idea that Granger would be seeing the real him, while he himself was forced to look at a lie, but he despised that she would likely tell her little friends. Potter knowing was bad enough, but he seemed to have reached an impasse with the boy. They mutually agreed to ignore each other, except, of course, when Severus decided to take points during class. It worked well, but throw Weasley into the mix and Severus was sure the coming year was going to be a living hell for him.

xxxxx

Severus stalked through the hallways, trying not to look as though he was happy about it. In general, he wasn't particularly happy, given that the irritating brats that had a penchant for making his life miserable and took pleasure in ruining his peaceful existence would be returning in mere hours. He was, however, happy to have a reason to charge through the hallways. He had few pleasures in life; he took enjoyment where he could get it.

He turned into the Hospital Wing happy to see that Granger was awake and ready for the day; he had no intention of waiting around for her to prepare herself. He noted that Minerva had already left and that the door to Poppy's room was slightly ajar, therefore, the Mediwitch had likely returned.

"Professor Snape." Granger nodded, but he noted the movement caused her to sway.

"Take this," he said, holding out the vial in his right hand.

She raised her eyebrows. "And good morning to you too, Professor," she said, taking the potion from him. She glanced at it for a moment before looking up at him. "Well," she demanded, "do I get an explanation or am I just expected to drink it?"

"You mean you can't see my intent to poison you with your new found powers?"

Whilst his intent had been to embarrass her, she had the gall to look amused. She smirked at him and he focussed his glare. He had yet to hear of killing people with a look, but it was something he had been perfecting over the years and continued to attempt. He had the feeling he would have ample time to practice over the coming year.

"Well?"

"It will allow you to see past the potions I have taken."

She looked confused. "How does that work? If you've taken a potion, you've clearly changed physically, how is it that I can see what you really look like _and_ what the potion makes you look like? At the same time? And how will this potion," she waved the vial, "counteract it if it's-"

"Cease your prattling, woman." Severus took a deep breath. There was a reason he had never chosen to seek a permanent relationship and if he ever forgot why, all he had to do was speak with Hermione Granger. "The potions I take were created with the use of the Reece Universal Number Theory."

"The potion is physical, but the RUNT holds the magical image of your self, making it easier to revert." She let out a short laugh. "Arithmancy and Potions. What a combination." She grinned and shook her head, swaying again, no doubt at seeing double.

"Indeed. Will you take the potion so that I may leave?"

"Staying to ensure that it poisons me, Professor?"

"If I were allowed to poison you, Professor Granger, I would have done so the first day you entered my classroom."

She rolled her eyes and he glared harder. It was bad enough that Minerva found his insults _endearing_; he most definitely did not want Granger to think the same, or worse, to be amused. He liked irritating people; he also enjoyed watching them tremble with fear; that did not work if one was amused or endeared. The effect was lost.

She swallowed the potion in one go and he had to admire her slightly for managing to keep it down. His potions tasted bad enough, but the counter potion was twice as horrid in smell, taste, and texture.

She blinked a few times before looking at him. She studied him carefully and he forced himself not to react under her scrutiny. She seemed to take in every part of him from the floor up. She paused a moment to look at his shoulders before her gaze continued. She spent a moment focussing on the rather large scar on his neck, but she seemed to barely notice his nose (which irked him a little, given the money he had paid to have it fixed) and instead locked eyes with him.

He had no idea what she found so fascinating. He was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he supposed, given what she was used to, that he was not entirely ugly either. She continued to stare into his eyes and he was reminded of why they had been the first to change – the windows to the soul. Not that he believed in that nonsense, but it seemed that other people did and he had wanted to avoid people looking through his windows at all costs; he valued his privacy.

"If you've quite finished staring at me, Professor," he finally said, breaking the silence. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, he told himself, it was simply because he was hungry and wished to make breakfast on time.

She seemed to shake herself. She nodded and he was convinced he heard her mutter something under her breath, but he neither wanted to know what she was saying, nor did he wish to remain in the Hospital Wing any longer. Who knew when Poppy might decide to descend on him? He had already had one lecture about taking care of himself and making sure to go to her when he was injured; he most definitely did not want another.

They made their way to the Great Hall in silence and he was rather unnerved to note that it was in no way uncomfortable. He supposed it was helpful given that they were to make the Dark Lord think that Severus was becoming _friendly_ with her. He had refrained from mentioning to Granger just how friendly he was likely expected to get, mostly because he would rather not think about it himself.

After a quick breakfast, Severus descended to his dungeon to prepare his classroom for the onslaught of plebeian intellect that would soon fill it. The day passed more quickly than he would have liked, and before he knew it, he was sitting at the high table next to Granger, watching as the students entered the room.

He had already snapped at the young Professor three times and yet she continued to fidget with her fingers under the table. She seemed, to all intents and purposes, perfectly at ease with her position, but he could see the movement in her clutched hands and it was irritating him no end.

He glanced around the room and, although he had already understood why she was so nervous, it became more apparent why she was fidgeting. It had not taken long for the students to notice her at the high table; it was common for new staff members to be appointed at the beginning of the school year and the students were accustomed to searching said members out before Albus introduced them. He noted, however, that Draco Malfoy had barely glanced in Granger's direction, and he surmised that he had been correct in his assumption that Lucius had informed him of the girl's appointment as Arithmancy Professor.

After what seemed like an age, the students had settled down and Minerva had brought in the new first years to be sorted. He recognised some of the surnames as children of previous students and was rather surprised when Aiken, Taina was sorted into his house. One glance told him that the girl was William Aiken's. The man had gone through school with Severus, although he was in the year below, and Severus had never got on with him. Not uncommon since Severus had rarely got along with anyone, let alone an upstart Muggle-born with more pretence of intellect than _actual _intelligence. From what he remembered of the man, Gryffindor to the core, he would have expected the child to follow in her father's footsteps.

His musings took him through most of the sorting, and by the time he had checked his house (only six new students – five boys and Taina Aiken), the final child had been sorted into Ravenclaw. He glanced briefly at the Gryffindor table and caught Potter's eye. The young man gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Severus turned back to his own house.

Draco Malfoy was regarding him with a solemn gaze, but there was little about the younger Malfoy that was not solemn these days. The boy had grown considerably, however, he had also closed off so much that Severus doubted his father even knew what was going on in his head. Lucius Malfoy was many things, but a good father was, surprisingly, one of them. He had known Draco since he was born and had watched Lucius, once his friend, taking care of the boy. It was something that would be doubted amongst many, but Severus never questioned Lucius' love for Draco. He was a father, and regardless of his questionable allegiances and ethics, he was a good one. That only left Severus with one problem; where did Draco fit into the balance of the War?

"-and I believe you all know our final teacher. Professor Granger will be taking those third years and above who have chosen Arithmancy."

Realising that he had zoned out all of Dumbledore's speech so far, Snape tuned in to try to read the reaction to Granger's new position. The Slytherins, as expected, were staring at Granger calculatingly, the Gryffindors excited, the Hufflepuffs confused and the Ravenclaws outraged. The new Arithmancy Professor was going to have one hell of a year. Severus tried not to smile; it would, after all, ruin his image.

xxxxx

**TBC…**

**Notes:** There are a few things I wanted to say to some people…

**HermioneRules:** This wouldn't have made it out of the writing process alive without your constant support and encouragement! Thank you very much for remaining in touch with me throughout the entire process, I hope this meets your expectations.

**Chowie:** Thank you very much for your review, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and as for your suggestions about the Grangers' deaths, etc, I hadn't really though**t** much about it, however, I have a feeling that some of these things will make their way into the story in the form of flashbacks or nightmares. Thank you for the idea.

**Siobhan:** Congrats. You were the only person that had noticed I had Wormtail there when he was meant to be dead. Even my beta missed that on her first read. It was corrected and reposted. Thanks again and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic.

**ArienAstera:** Yes, I took your suggestion and split the previous chapter up when posting (except for Schnoogle). I may even continue to do so if the chapters remain as long as they have been. Glad you like.

**Anon (whomever you were!): **Yes, I'm also from Scotland and I really wasn't thinking straight when I wrote the original author's note; my point was simply that I wanted Hermione that little bit older and I even have a legitimate reason for it now! ;) Thanks for pointing it out.

**To everyone else:** Thank you so much for your response to this fic, I really do appreciate it. I'm so sorry that I was unable to deliver this chapter sooner and I only hope that you're able to stick with it.


	6. The Threads of Mind and Magic: Part A

**Author's note: **I want to thank you all for your continuing patience with this one. I won't bore you with a lot of details about the list of issues that have prevented me from updating this fic (computer problems, health issues, and the fact that I now work two jobs to name a few) , all I will say is that I'm sorry and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

**A quick note:** After realising how disgustingly stupid it was of me to _not_ remember that Vector was a witch (as mentioned by Ron in…one of the books!), I have slightly amended chapter two. You don't need to reread it, it's merely a few sentences to inform you that Vector's wife was Hermione's original teacher, but she left to take a research post with the Ministry's Arithmancy department and her husband took her place at Hogwarts.

I have also amended Ginny's name to Ginevra, despite having initially wanted to keep it as Virginia. It's such a small thing and I've only used it a few times before this anyway, so making it canon really wasn't an issue.

Speaking of canon, please remember that this is only canon until the end of Order of the Phoenix. After that it's a whole new 'verse!

Once again, this is a Hermione dominant chapter, because I just couldn't get her to stop talking! ;)

xxxxx

**Part Five: The Threads of Mind and Magic**

xxxxx

In her relatively short life, Hermione Granger had found herself in many situations where she had wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. In fact, through her acquaintance with Harry and (more specifically) Ron, she had often had moments where she had wanted the ground to open up and swallow someone _else_. The moment she found herself under the scrutiny and, indeed judgement, of the entire school, she suddenly realised that not one of those prior situations had ever felt quite like _that_.

Her stomach contorted in knots as the murmur of discontent swept across the hall, mainly through the older students, of course, but that realisation didn't make her feel any less nervous. There was nothing she could do, although handing in her resignation and fleeing was sounding like quite a nice idea, even though she had nowhere to run to. She was essentially trapped at the head table, Snape then Seriya on one side and only Minerva's empty chair between her and Dumbledore; she didn't fancy her odds of making it to the door. Not that Snape was likely to stop her, but the others might have a few choice words to say.

It was an odd sensation, to feel as if one was drowning in nothing but air. It seemed to close in on you and choke you. Oh, intellectually she realised she was nearing the stages of a panic attack, but the analytical part of her was being overruled by the part that wanted to run away screaming, 'I want my mummy'. However, that part merely reminded her why she was here; her parents were gone and, even if she wanted to, she could run to neither of them.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione, feeling the need to see a friendly face, searched the Gryffindor table for any sign of Harry and was pleasantly surprised to find him seated next to Neville and opposite Ginny at the nearest end of the table to her. Due to this, the space usually reserved for the new first years began not at the top of the table (as was custom), but next to Harry and didn't end until it reached the second years.

Seeing Harry so close and so willing to support her in every way made her wish, yet again, that she was in love with him. He would never let her down, no matter what, and he was always there to support her, even if he didn't, or couldn't, understand why she had chosen to do it. Harry was one of the best parts of her, so much so that she wasn't sure she ever wanted to share him, but one day he would fall in love and, she hoped, so would she. She didn't like to think where that would leave the two of them; she only hoped it wouldn't lead to the same thing that had happened with Ron.

She glanced further down the Gryffindor table and it really wasn't hard to spot her red haired friend. He was sitting with Dean and Seamus, who were clearly barraging him with questions and, given the sour look on his face, it wasn't hard to guess what the questions were about.

_He really hates me._

It wasn't a pleasant thought, in fact it made her heart ache, but it was the truth. Harry seemed to think that he'd forgive her – eventually – but they both knew how stubborn Ron could be. The fact that Harry and Ginny were openly supporting her couldn't have made it any easier for him.

_He's being unreasonable, _she thought decidedly.

Or was he? It wasn't as if Hermione had been open with any of them, in fact she had outright lied to them for the last two years (or was it three? She was never really sure about time anymore). She knew she had hurt Ron when she had told him that it was best if they just remained friends and deep down she knew he must also have realised that, but her rejection had hurt all the same. She, Harry, and Ron had been friends for so long and she had never really resented that she was the second choice to them both. Hermione understood that sometimes boys just needed to be around boys. She had known they both valued her as a friend and that was something she had so rarely had in her life.

Hermione Granger had always been the bookworm, the swot, even before she attended Hogwarts. The fact that she had lived in a border town that was entirely too small hadn't really helped her make friends. In fact, Hermione could only really name one person in her time before Hogwarts that had always remained a friend, but Beth couldn't follow her to school and the little time they got to spend together during the holidays just wasn't the same. Beth was still a close friend, but they saw each other so rarely. As for Ron, well, she only hoped that he would come around; she valued her friendships _because_ she had so few that were true and the thought of losing someone who had been such a close friend for so long didn't bear thinking about.

She knew that their failed romance had changed things, perhaps irrevocably, but she got the feeling that there was more to it than that. After losing her parents, she hadn't known where to turn to or how to cope. Sometimes she wanted to be left alone and other times she craved company so much it was almost a physical need. Harry had understood that without her having to say anything, Ron hadn't been able to. She had always felt closer to Harry on some level, perhaps due to the awkwardness she had always felt around Ron due to the slight tension that had always been there. She would never deny that, at one time in her teenage life, she had wanted to date Ron, but that fact had made it harder to get as close to him as she could with Harry. Since losing her parents, she and Harry had become almost inseparable (unless flying was involved; then he was on his own) and Ron had been out of the loop in the way that Hermione once had. The only difference was that Ron didn't know how to handle it.

Bringing herself back to her immediate surroundings, Hermione glanced further up the table, unable to stand being so blatantly ignored by Ron any longer. Her gaze fell on Harry once more. He caught her eye and winked at her, mouthing, "Good luck, Professor," and suddenly she felt much better. She took a deep breath to steady herself and allowed a moment to regroup.

_You can do this, Hermione Jane Granger_, she told herself firmly. _You're ready for this._

As if the thought had reminded her of an innate self-confidence she had never known she had possessed, she sat up straighter and began to look around the hall in a more confident manner. This time, she refused to back down. This time, she wouldn't look away when someone challenged her gaze.

It took her a moment to feel the magic thrumming around her, but she soon realised that the active concentration she was exerting was causing a change in the world before her eyes. For the first time, however, she was conscious of the change and the fact that she was in control of it.

The world slowly spilled into vibrant colour, almost like the strange blobs she often got in her vision when she'd suddenly had bright light flashed in front of her eyes, only these colours weren't floating, they were surrounding people; they weren't coming from a light source, but life force itself. Every pupil and teacher in the school was surrounded by a light of varying colours, shapes, and vibrancies, all woven through with the gold and silver threads of magic. She wasn't sure how she knew that those threads were the magic any more than she was sure how she knew the way to read the emotions she was seeing within the auras…she just _knew_. She felt as if some long dormant part of her was coming to life, as if there was something inside her that had flicked on like a light switch – one she was finally gaining some control over. She wanted to study the intricate patterns before her, analyse them and learn what it was that made them the way they were, but more than that she wanted to _walk_ through it, experience it in a way only she could.

Her eyes lingered over the colours but briefly, being drawn to the most dominant light sources; those that were so bright she couldn't see who was generating them, light so vibrant she could barely look at them without getting dizzy. She knew who some were, simply from having observed the room before her new senses took over: Dumbledore, Harry, Snape, and (surprisingly) Ginny. However, there were another four that she could not identify: one teacher, two Slytherins, and a Ravenclaw. Wanting to identify them, she focussed and tried to return her vision to normal, but she couldn't. She took a deep breath and tried again, but it wasn't until Seriya's hand (she had reached across a rather irritated looking Snape) was placed on her arm that her vision jolted into normality.

Hermione hissed and closed her eyes as sharp pains pierced through her head and eyes. She kept her eyes closed for a few minutes and took a deep breath before opening them. She smiled reassuringly at Seriya and at Harry, who must have been watching her, only to realise that, not only had she missed most of the Sorting, she had no idea who those four people were. Her curiosity was such that she was tempted to try again, but her head had other ideas; she was going to have one hell of a migraine for the rest of the evening.

She watched the rest of the Sorting, trying to remember at least some of the names and faces of the new first years, but she had a feeling she was doing a miserable job. She scanned the room again to find that, although most of the younger years were no longer staring at her, the sixth and seventh years were still regarding her curiously, or, in the case of the Slytherins, with intense hostility.

After what seemed like an age, the final student was Sorted into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore began his beginning of year speech. Hermione wanted to listen to it, she really did, however the butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach once again were a more pressing concern. The moment was arriving. Whilst it was unlikely her position at the head table would be difficult to figure out, she knew that the students were waiting to _hear_ that she had been made a teacher before reacting with more than looks.

_They're going to eat me alive,_ she thought in a sudden moment of panic. _What the hell were you thinking, Hermione Granger? That they would listen to you? Learn? You would have been better off just feeding yourself to the nearest hippogriff; it would have been more humane. _

"Calm down, Hermione," Minerva said softly. The older woman had taken the empty seat to Hermione's right without her even noticing. "You'd think you were going to your execution."

"I think I am."

Seriya chuckled and winked at her. "You'll be fine."

Hermione didn't think it was quite polite to laugh in her former Professor's face, so she simply nodded and tried to focus on Dumbledore instead.

"- in Mr. Filch's office," the Headmaster finished, his gaze lingering on the Gryffindor table. "Now, as to the appointment of new teachers, I would like to introduce Professor Cleaver, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a smattering of applause as Tera Cleaver looked for all the world as if she was about to faint and Hermione couldn't blame her; she wanted to disappear herself. "And I believe you all know our final teacher. Professor Granger will be taking the appointment of Arithmancy Professor."

There was a moment of silence before Harry started to clap. Before she could so much as blink, there was a raucous applause from the Gryffindor table. Many of the Hufflepuffs were clapping good-naturedly, although they looked rather perplexed. The Ravenclaws appeared to be clapping under duress (they looked particularly angry), and none of the Slytherins were even bothering, instead they appeared to be eyeing her up as if she was about to be served to them on a dinner plate.

Dumbledore invited the school to eat and soon Hermione found that she had a moment to take a deep breath without feeling as if she were under inspection by the entire school. She hadn't thought she was hungry until the smell of gravy surrounded her and suddenly she was famished. She began to modestly fill her plate (if she ate too much there was every chance she wouldn't keep it down, given the summersaults her stomach felt the need to perform whenever she felt someone looking at her) and turned her attention to the conversation around her.

"-told him it was his own fault, he should never have enchanted his underwear like that."

Hermione blinked. "I get the feeling I've tuned in at the wrong moment."

Seriya laughed. "There _was _no right moment, never is with Minerva, you should know that by now."

"I think I'm supposed to resent that," Minerva said, "but, since it implies that my conversation is never dull, I choose to take it as a compliment."

"You would," Snape muttered, reaching in front of Seriya to help himself to the potatoes.

There was something odd about sitting at the high table and conversing with the teachers as she would with her classmates at the Gryffindor table. She had been eating with the staff since arriving at the castle, but it was different to be at the head table doing so. The simple act of conversing and the mundane task of eating made her teachers so much more, well, like _real people._ It was an odd realisation.

"-first class?"

"Sorry, what?" Hermione asked, turning to Seriya.

"I asked if you knew what year you had for your first class."

She took a moment to think about the pieces of paper that Snape had brought her the previous evening before she had, well, fainted. She had barely had time to look at them before coming to dinner, but she definitely remembered what her first class was.

"Advanced," she said, trying her best not to sound forlorn.

Minerva chuckled.

"I'm so glad you find my pain amusing, Minerva," Hermione said. "You could at least _attempt _to sound sorry for me."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, you have to admit it's at least a _little_ funny. Sod's law, really."

"Yes, and it makes perfect sense to me that Sod was a wizard," Hermione retorted.

"_Sod_ was a person?" Seriya asked, perplexed, and Snape looked very much like he wanted to roll his eyes, but was refusing to allow himself the pleasure. "I thought he was Murphy."

"Yes, but with a law like that," Minerva said with a smirk, "someone was bound to affix him with the name 'Sod'."

"Well, I'm currently thinking of something a little stronger than 'sod'," Hermione mumbled, but the two women picked up on it and chuckled.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Seriya said, "at least this way you're getting the worst of it over with right away."

"And it's a small class, isn't it?" Minerva asked.

"Comparatively speaking: four Slytherins, two Gryffindors, five Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff."

"No problem, then," Seriya said with a reassuring smile.

"I suppose it would depend on exactly _which_ pupils you will be teaching," Snape added and Hermione wanted to smack the smug smile off his face…or perhaps stare into those eyes of his. She shook her head slightly, refusing to allow herself the indulgence. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the way the 'real' Snape looked.

It wasn't that Snape was handsome, quite the contrary really, he was still…odd - almost awkward - looking and he even had visible scars to add to it. But those _eyes_; brown just wasn't dark enough to describe them. They were almost black, and they certainly had the same effect as a black hole: they sucked you right in and held on until you were a goner. Not that _she_ was.

Glancing at him in her peripheral vision, she took another moment to study him. His nose wasn't all that bad either, but she could see the magical residue on it and she knew that wasn't natural; she supposed his 'fake nose' was more like what it should be. As for his body, well, she wasn't even going to go there. Well, not much. He was still reasonably lanky, even if his shoulders were broad, but he was wiry; finely toned muscle all packed in nice and neat from what little she had observed and, even if she should get the chance, she had decided she wasn't going to observe any more. Besides, the slick layer of grease still coated his hair. She had deduced that it was all still part of his act, or perhaps some kind of repellent against potion spills, or something equally useful for a Potions Master, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

She wasn't sure why she was so fascinated by him, although intellectually speaking it was fascinating. She was seeing someone she had known for six (seven? eight?) years in a whole new light. He was the same, yet different. She felt the need to study him, to see what it was that had changed, to compare the differences over time and environment in the same way she would have studied a chemical experiment or a potion that was brewing over time. She almost wanted to record her findings, which was, of course, not only ridiculous, but impossible in the given circumstances. She didn't even want to think about what the consequences could be should anyone find such notes.

She shuddered slightly at the thought and took a long drink of her orange juice. She wasn't sure who Albus had bribed to get orange juice at the high table, but anything was better than day after day of pumpkin juice, so she hadn't asked.

Snape reached in front of her to reach one of the serving plates and nudged her arm rather forcefully in the process. She was about to retort when she realised that he was merely trying to capture her attention.

She frowned. "You couldn't just say, 'excuse me, Professor' and start a conversation," she hissed. He merely glared at her. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Hermione put some more mashed potatoes on her plate before turning back to look at him. "Excuse me, Professor," she began, enunciating each word carefully. Snape's glare only intensified. She smiled. "I was wondering if you had given any further thought to the advanced project for the NEWT level students. I realise we haven't had an opportunity to discuss it properly, but I was hoping to bring it up in my class tomorrow morning; give the students some time to start thinking about it."

Snape seemed to think on her idea and she continued to eat, waiting for his reply. Whilst the idea to talk to each other in view of the students was merely a necessity for Snape's assignment for Voldemort, and, subsequently, Dumbledore, Hermione didn't see why they couldn't actually talk about something worth while. Besides, she'd feel utterly ridiculous trying to make small talk with Snape.

Eventually, Snape nodded. "I think it would be an excellent idea," he admitted, grudgingly and Hermione had to stop herself from smiling smugly. It was clear that he was irked not to have suggested the idea himself. She had no doubt he had had the same thought at some point in his life, but whether through circumstance or merely dislike of his colleagues, had never thought to bring it up.

"Wonderful," she said happily. "I'll mention it tomorrow morning then. We'll need to discuss it further, of course," she said, making sure she was loud enough for Seriya and McGonagall to overhear. It was a legitimate reason to be spending time together and Hermione refused to have a potential friendship (whether real or pretend) begin any other way. Voldemort might buy it, but the likes of Lucius and Draco Malfoy would not.

"Of course. However, if it is to become as substantial a project as I think you intend, it would be best to count towards both classes. Those students not taking both classes will have to be inventive in whichever class they _are_ taking."

Hermione smiled, trying to imagine the look on Harry's face when he realised he'd have to do a project in potions and it was all her fault. She was very proud of Harry for getting into NEWT level Potions. Whilst he had used a lot of her notes and spent a lot of time learning from her, the potential for that class was already there. As soon as he understood the basics and the ideas behind them, he was actually quite good at it. Harry, in fact, had more raw talent with potions than she did and it actually annoyed her to have to admit it. Not that she begrudged him anything, it just annoyed her in the same way that Sirius' incredible talents had, because he hadn't had to work for them, they were just there and he took them for granted.

Aside from Arithmancy, which she was inherently good at (thanks to having always been a bit of a maths whiz in Muggle School), she had to study a lot to learn certain subjects. People like Sirius Black and (from what she had heard) James Potter annoyed her because they could just _do_ things without even having to try. They had become Animagi at the age of fourteen when it had taken her three years to work out the incantations and a further three months to perfect the potions, not to mention the next two months of experimenting before she and her friends had actually managed to _become_ Animagi. For Harry it had worked on his first try, for Hermione, George, and Ginny the second, Fred the fifth, and poor Ron had taken seven tries. However, he had been slightly mollified when Hermione had informed him of the magical properties of the number seven.

"-might at least _pretend_ to be listening."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor, I was miles away."

"If only," Snape muttered and she laughed. It took him quite by surprise and, judging from the almost silent murmur in the hallway it had taken a few other people by surprise also.

Hermione felt her cheeks colour and tried not to actually look at anyone outside of the head table. Snape had already snapped at her a few times before the Sorting and he looked rather like he was about to again, so she instead addressed herself to Seriya, drawing the woman into a conversation about her favourite person in the world; her husband. It would have amused Hermione had it not actually been rather sickening. Apparently Seriya and her husband, Symeon, had been married for ten years, but they acted more like newlyweds than any couple Hermione had ever seen. According to Minerva they used to be worse.

The rest of dinner passed relatively quickly and it wasn't long before the Prefects were ushering the new first years out of the Great Hall to their common rooms. Harry caught her eye and indicated that he was going to wait for her outside the hall and she nodded, smiling at him. It would be nice to see a friendly face.

She pulled her chair out and stood up, almost bumping into Snape again, which didn't do her intention to _not_ think about his changed form any good at all. She cleared her throat and stepped back, apologising and refusing to blush. He quirked an eyebrow, before stepping aside to allow her to pass.

"If you are free tomorrow, Professor," he said from behind her and she turned. "It might be advisable to discuss our planned project before the students decide they have a free reign of the subject."

_Oh, how quickly it became_ 'our'_ project,_ she thought wryly. However, she said, "Of course."

"I believe you also have a free period after lunch."

Hermione nodded and the plans were set. Intending to slip quickly into the hallway now that most of the students had been shepherded away, Hermione failed to notice Minerva until she had been pulled roughly into the small corridor behind the staff table.

"Sorry about that," Minerva said, as Hermione rubbed her arm, looking anything but sorry. "I just wanted to let you know that Albus has informed me of Voldemort's plans regarding you. I'm willing and able to do anything that will help you jump good old Severus'. He hasn't had sex in a very long time. Explains the grumpiness, don't you think?"

Hermione spluttered. "Minerva! Y-you — I—stop it! Ugh!" Hermione shook her head and put her hands over her ears to drown out Minerva's laughter. "Ugh, I'm going to go voluntarily deaf. Hand me over to St. Mungo's immediately."

Minerva frowned as Hermione finally shook her head and straightened up. "I thought you were able to see Severus for who he truly was."

"I doubt anyone will ever see Professor Snape for who he truly is," Hermione said, feeling sadness at the idea that anyone was really that closed off from the world and the people around them. "But, yes, I can see him."

"And he still repulses you?"

Hermione shifted. "He was my Professor," she said after a moment. "It's not even something I'd think about."

_Oh really? I seem to recall otherwise._

Hermione really hated the voice in her head, the one that had a disturbing likeness to Harry. Harry was always able to make her admit the truth to herself…actually, Harry really annoyed her sometimes.

Minerva smiled. "Of course not. Now, about this plan. I'll help in any way I can, I always enjoy baiting Severus, but you seem to have things under control with this project for the NEWTs. Just try not to embarrass him too horribly in front of the students," Minerva said seriously. "It's just torture not being able to laugh openly at him without the student body expecting him to try to hex me."

"Try, Minerva?" came a voice behind them and they turned to find Snape standing in the doorway to the Great Hall. "If I recall correctly, and I usually do, I believe I'm always successful."

"Nonsense. I think that wench in Barcelona would beg to differ."

Hermione's shoulders started to shake as she held in her laughter. "Why Professor Snape, it seems I've underestimated you."

"Minerva, my patience with your attitude notwithstanding, if you don't advise the young Professor to hold her tongue, I will-"

"Will what?" Minerva asked, arching an eyebrow. "If you want to try hexing a _Hermanté_, Severus Snape, you go right ahead. It merely proves that you are more stupid than I had originally thought. Just try to ensure I'm there to observe the fall out. I do love to laugh at your expense."

"I hadn't noticed," Snape said dryly.

"Just ignore the old bat, Hermione," Minerva said, returning her attention to the young Professor.

"I try to, Minerva, but Professor Snape makes it rather difficult." Snape glared at her, but, with Minerva at her side and a tingling power at her disposal, she felt rather brave.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, call him 'Severus'."

"She has," Snape sneered. "Repeatedly."

"Good for you. Now, as I was informing Hermione, Albus has asked me to help you both _accommodate_ You-Know-Who however I can. I'm sure you have no doubts as to what You-Know-Who intends."

To Hermione, however, that interpretation _hadn't_ occurred. She hoped her eyes weren't as wide as they felt, because it was stupid that she hadn't guessed Voldemort had intended for Snape to seduce her. Being seduced by Snape…that sounded _wrong_.

_Do I _want_ to be seduced by Snape?_

The thought was an odd one that she didn't choose to ponder on too long.

"Well, it'll have to be a gradual thing," Hermione started, slowly. "Professor Snape – Severus," she amended at Minerva's look, "was my teacher for so long that it would just be…well, wrong."

"Stranger things have happened," Minerva said with a smile.

"I believe the Dark Lord intended it to happen quickly."

"You can't honestly believe that Voldemort expects you to play things as if you've been lusting after me since I was eleven. Frankly, I'd find that as disturbing as you would insulting. He expects the plan to work. Therefore, slowly, that's the only way we do this."

Minerva's mouth was twitching.

"For goodness' sake, Minerva, just say whatever it was."

"I wouldn't know where to begin, the opportunities are endless."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Look, if nothing else, we know that Lucius and Draco Malfoy wouldn't fall for it and they'd find some way to prove to Voldemort that it was all a lie."

Snape nodded slowly. "Agreed."

"Well, now that we have that sorted, I believe Mister Potter is waiting for you in the hallway, Hermione, so I'll let you be. I have some class notes to finalise before tomorrow."

Minerva bade her good night and Snape turned around and preceded her exit from the Great Hall. Harry was lounging against the wall, propped up by a suit of armour, hands in his pockets and looking rather scruffy with his tie askew and his shirt un-tucked. It didn't take a genius to see why he had suddenly become so popular with the girls at Hogwarts (and, indeed, some of the boys) and Hermione, whilst perhaps no genius, wasn't stupid enough to miss it.

"Hey gorgeous," he said with a wink as she approached him. Hermione glanced around and he chuckled. "I sent them all up to the common room. Didn't think you'd appreciate being bombarded before classes even started, Professor."

"Thank you, Harry."

He glanced around. "Am I allowed to hug you?"

She laughed. "I don't think so, actually, which I have to say I'm not too happy with, because I could really use one."

Harry took one more glance around and pulled her into a tight hug. He held her for a few minutes before reluctantly stepping back. "Snape was the last person to leave and I figured, with you two being so chummy and all, he might not report you," he said with a wink.

"What do you mean, chummy? We are not chummy, just…tolerating each other. Plus, we have a project we're working on together for the NEWTS."

Harry groaned. "What did you get me into, Mia?"

"Nothing you can't handle, _Jamie_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know that doesn't bother me any more than my calling you 'Mia' bothers you."

"I know." In truth, Hermione knew it wasn't just a case of it not bothering him; Harry _liked_ it when she called him 'Jamie'. She didn't call him it very often, just every now and then when she thought he needed it. Hermione knew what it meant to him to have that link to the person he'd lost, in the same way that calling her Aunt Aeva 'Linda' gave the woman a link to her own mother as well as Hermione's. 'Linda' had been Hermione's mother's pet name for her aunt and it was Hermione's way of keeping her mother alive. Sometimes she felt Harry needed that as well, to keep his parents alive as much as possible, it was something she'd always hoped she'd never understand first hand. Some things just weren't meant to be.

"So if a hug's out of order, I'm guessing you won't be allowed to show me these swanky new rooms of yours either," he said forlornly. They had both known her becoming a Professor would cause changes in their relationship, but now, being faced with them, it seemed so much worse.

"I'm guessing it would be."

"So," Harry glanced around again, "your powers are starting to surface?" he asked.

She nodded. "And, can I just say, you're so pretty." She was able to hold a straight face for about ten seconds, but the reaction was priceless. She laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes, before reining it in and looking at a glaring Harry.

"How many times do I have to tell you that 'pretty' is not a masculine word and you're not allowed to use it on anyone but George."

"I thought it was Fred we'd decided was too pretty."

"It was until George gave me the prototype to their new sweets and I was making baboon noises for an entire evening."

Hermione frowned. "No, that was Fred; George owled me."

"He did escape rather quickly," Harry said slowly. "Okay, so you can call Fred pretty, but that's it."

"But you _are_ pretty, all blue and silver and gold, with just the right amount of blinding white light to guide you to your trusty steed. Look," she said, melodramatically indicating the suit of armour behind him, "you're all set to go."

"And you're all set to be tortured."

Her eyes widened. "You're not allowed to tickle teachers," she said, backing away as he began to advance. "It's against the law. They can send you to Azkaban. Y…You'll be expelled. I'll be fired! No, Harry, please don't!"

He stopped right in front of her and smirked evilly. "Only because I know you're a screamer-"

"Harry James Potter!" she interrupted, with mock indignation.

"-_and_ - let me finish, Hermione Granger, you perverted little witch - I don't fancy bringing the entire castle down here. But I will get you when you least expect it."

"I can zap you with my new powers, you know." There was a moment's silence before they burst out laughing.

"But you're doing all right, no more fainting?"

"I had another spell last night, but it's all taken care of and it shouldn't happen like that again. I'd tell you about it but-"

"But you can't. It's okay, Hermione, I know how it works, remember."

"I do." Her thoughts were drifting to Ron and she wasn't ready to go there yet. So, before Harry could mention him, she decided to continue. "Poppy has demanded that I inform you that you are to take me immediately to the Hospital Wing if you think anything's wrong. I will, however, stress that if you let her put me in one of those itchy nighties, I will hex you where it hurts."

"Are violent tendencies a side effect of _Hermanté_ powers, because I'm not covered with life insurance and-ouch! Okay, I'm sorry." He laughed at her. "It's fine, I promise, okay. You're coping with it, though?"

She sighed. "I don't know, I think I'm starting to pick up on other people's feelings. When everyone came in and saw me I just couldn't decide how _I_ felt, I just kept feeling like I think I was expected to feel. Does that make sense? It was as if I could sense what everyone was thinking seeing me up there and I…couldn't cope."

"You looked like you coped just fine to me."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so out of my depth! I'm supposed to be an emotion witch, which is ridiculous - I have no patience for people whatsoever!"

"Not to mention that when someone cries, you like to run in the opposite direction," Harry added with a smirk.

"Hey!"

"Don't you 'hey' me, it's true! That time Parvati was crying about her break up with Seamus, you were _actually_ flapping your arms helplessly."

"She launched herself at my shoulder as if she was an American linebacker! I thought she was about to rugby tackle me."

"You realise they're two completely different sports, right?"

"Don't be silly, American Football is - why _do _they call it 'Football'? They use their hands for ninety percent of the game. American Football is just Rugby for people who want to pad themselves and keep their teeth. My dad always said it was Rugby for wimps."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did your dad every _watch_ a game?"

"Don't be silly, the closest thing to sport my dad got was hiking. He didn't even like golf, he agreed that it was 'a walk spoiled'."

"Right. Why are we talking about this again?"

"Parvati."

"Oh, yes, I remember. Your tendency to run away screaming when someone who isn't family or a close friend actually turns to you for emotional support."

"That's harsh."

"True. I think I'm the only person you're okay with comforting and that's because we both like to grieve alone."

Hermione nodded, the tone of the conversation really registering. "I know."

"You do know that I'm always here if, you know, you decided you want to grieve _with_ someone?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. That's what makes it so easy to do it alone; the knowledge that I don't have to. I know you're there to fix me if I break."

"Well, this is decidedly sappy," Harry said after a moment. "You sure you didn't spend your summer working in Clinton Cards or Birthdays instead of studying for your exams?" She whacked his arm playfully and he laughed. "So, how's your aunt?"

"Still pregnant, still eating disgusting concoctions. Oh, did I ever _thank_ you for sending her those awful sweets the twins made?"

"Hey, they were actually really good and the ones I sent Linda were Muggle proof, didn't even transfigure."

"No, you're right, they didn't," Hermione agreed, "but picture them covered in _marmite_ put in a blender with _banana_ and spread on _toast_! Yes, that's the colour _I_ looked when I saw her eating it."

"What the heck gave her the idea to do that?" Harry asked, utterly disgusted.

"I didn't ask. She mentioned something about a dare from Remus, but I think she took it too far. Darren was nearly sick when he saw it. It went a horrid shade of puce."

Harry frowned. "I've never really understood what colour 'puce' was, but the name implies enough really."

"Exactly." They were silent for a moment before Hermione sighed. "I really better get going, I have NEWT level first thing tomorrow and I have the feeling I'm going to get eaten alive."

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance, you'll be wonderful." He kissed her forehead (after checking they were, indeed, alone) and bade her good night. "Sleep tight, Professor," he said as he began ascending the stairs, "you've a big day ahead tomorrow."

"Night, Harry."

As she turned and headed towards her rooms, she couldn't ignore the surge of sadness that was enveloping her. As much as she loved her new role and as much as she needed to be where she was, doing what she was, she hadn't thought it would hurt quite so much to leave everyone else behind. Especially Harry. Deciding it wasn't too late to call her aunt, since the baby had a tendency to keep her up late by kicking into the night, she decided to have another go at enchanting her mobile phone and seeing if she could call home. It wasn't her parents, but it was the next best thing. At worst, Snowshine would have some work to do tonight, but either way she knew that, tomorrow, her entire world was about to change. She just wasn't sure how she would fit into it.

xxxxx

**TBC in Part B **

**(Part B is finished and just being looked over. If I can get back into the internet café it should be up by the end of the week.)**


	7. The Threads of Mind and Magic: Part B

**Author's Notes: First off, **so sorry that I had to delay posting this a few more days. My parents' computer is ancient and wouldn't install my USB device properly. I don't have another chapter ready, but am hoping to get back tonight after work and get it going. I certainly don't intend to take a year to update again. I'm appalled that it took this long this time and apologise to those of you who have been waiting so patiently for updates.

**Second**, a _huge_ thank you to those of you who pointed out the few mistakes I managed to make in the last chapter. I'm a fool:p

xxxxx

**Part Five B: The Threads of Mind and Magic**

xxxxx

Severus sighed and glanced at his watch before continuing on his rounds. The first night of the first term of the year was always rather boring. Still excited by the return and the chance to see housemates after a long summer, the students tended not to venture out of bounds. It made giving out detentions and taking points decidedly difficult. It also meant he had too much time to _not_ think about Hermione Granger.

There was something bewitching in her - he almost wanted to roll his eyes at the ridiculous statement, but it was the only word he could think of to describe it. She was, without knowledge, he suspected, reaching out and manipulating the auras around her. It was the only explanation for how lenient he had been about the way she was speaking to him, but he rather hoped he was just coming down with something. Anything would be better than what he knew was in store for him if he had to keep up pretences for the sake of his role as a spy. A nice bout of the plague would have suited him much better than having to spend time more with her than was absolutely necessary. It was all made worse, of course, by the fact that he suspected they might actually get along, if he were to actually choose to converse. Yes, the plague definitely sounded good.

He rounded the last corner near the Great Hall and decided it was pointless to continue. He would return to his rooms and have one last relaxing evening before first year Potions the following morning. Double period. Of course. He really hated his job.

"Professor Snape."

He spun around and glared at the young woman. She was standing tall as if she had every right to be there and it was extremely irritating. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, for breaking curfew."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

He was a little disconcerted that she had not only shown herself to him and accepted the loss of points, but also because she was still standing there. "What is it, Miss Weasley?"

"May I have a moment of your time, sir?"

"You have already had several and therefore I shall grant you some of Mr Filch's precious time tomorrow evening at seven. Follow me."

Severus headed quickly towards his office, he had the feeling that whatever Miss Weasley was about to divulge should not be spoken freely in the hallways. Hermione Granger may see no problem in discussing things in the hallway, but, had he not cast a silencing charm and sent Mister Malfoy to his rooms - he had instantly spotted the Slytherin lurking in wait after the Welcoming Feast – she would have seen the error of her ways. Unfortunately that scenario didn't bode well for him either, so he would have to take it upon himself to _advise_ her against that in the future.

Turning his attentions back to Miss Weasley, a sense of foreboding came over him and he was no longer sure that he wanted to know what she wished to share with him. She followed silently and managed to keep up with his fast pace. He was slightly impressed.

After reaching his office, he walked to the fireplace, turning to look at her as she gently closed the door behind her. She turned to face him and he could see that she as starting to feel nervous. She had never been in his office before; she had never needed to be. She was neither good enough at Potions that she was doing extra credit work nor bad enough that she required detention or extra tutoring, not that he offered that often.

"Well, Miss Weasley, I trust that you are not here to simply waste my time."

"No, Sir." She took a nervous step towards him. "Sir, I need your help."

"I assume this has something to do with your brother, Percy."

She frowned. "A little, but mostly it has something to do with me."

Severus stood up straighter, not quite liking the sinking sensation that was building in his stomach. "What do you mean, Miss Weasley?"

He took a step towards her, but she stood her ground. There was something almost brilliant about her in that moment and he was reminded of why he held her in such high esteem with regards to her future. She could be something great, something brilliant, and he hated to think that she might have already ruined that potential. She took a moment before holding her left arm out towards him and Severus closed his eyes briefly as she lifted the sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.

Severus felt the world closing in around him. It had happened to so many of them, so many great potentials over too many generations and he had failed to stop them. The logic telling him that there was little he _could_ have done was all too easy to ignore when faced with the sight before him. It seemed so much worse than the mark he bore. So much worse because he could see no reason for it, no reason for her to have turned her back on the life she led. Not for this.

"I-I didn't know where else to go."

The soft timbre of her voice shook him back to the present. He dropped her arm as if it were burning him, not even conscious as to when he had taken hold of it, and stared into her eyes, relentlessly unforgiving. He needed to know why.

"And why, Miss Weasley, would you come to _me_?"

She took a deep breath. "Because you're the only one who understands and you're the only one I can pass information to without my family finding out."

Severus frowned. "And what makes you think I won't divulge this information?"

"Because you're a Slytherin and it's in your best interests not to." He raised his eyebrows at her growing confidence in whatever ridiculous plan she had concocted. "I know your secret and now you know mine. I can't tell them, I can never tell them because they won't understand. If I tell them I didn't mean to and it was all a mistake then they'll forgive me and smother me and treat me like I'm poor innocent little Ginny and that's not true. I'd be lying. I did mean to do this Professor Snape, I meant to do this because I can help the people you can't…and maybe this way…maybe this way it'll stop."

Severus couldn't begin to understand everything she was talking about, but he didn't interrupt. He was going to let her finish before he scared the shit out of her. Stupid, stupid little girl.

"Percy knows."

This surprised him and he didn't even bother hiding his reaction. When she had mentioned his brother on approaching him at Grimmauld Place, he had assumed the situations were reversed as far as the two siblings were concerned and he didn't care if it made him a bastard to admit that he wished that was the truth.

"He knew Tom was pulling me in, he heard me. No one else ever mentioned it, no one talked about it. It was a taboo. I wasn't meant to think about it and I wasn't allowed to remember it. No one would let me remember, but Tom…Tom wouldn't let me forget."

"The diary," Severus muttered and she nodded.

"He took my soul and Harry got it back for me…but some of Tom came too. And then what did my wonderful friend do? He gave the diary _back_ to Lucius Malfoy. He gave it back to Tom. It doesn't matter, Professor Snape, it never matters that I'm not supposed to remember it, because I don't have a choice."

"Of course you had a choice, you stupid girl," he retorted. "There are a horde of people willing to listen to you, you could have-"

"I could have what?" she yelled, surprising him with the vehemence in her voice. "Told the Great, Good Harry Potter that he might have saved me, but he also condemned me to sharing my soul with Tom? It would have broken his heart and then, when he thought about it, he'd eventually come to the conclusion that I'd have to be dealt with as well. Told Dumbledore? So he could patronise me and tell me that I should have told him sooner when he might have actually been able to do something about it? I couldn't tell him what I didn't understand! I was _eleven years old_ and nobody wanted to talk about it! Was I supposed to tell my family? The family I couldn't even tell that I was meant to be a Slytherin? Oh, that's right; _you _didn't know that, because you never had the chance to know me, because I told the hat 'no'. Harry can try to make me feel better by telling me that the hat wanted him in Slytherin, too, but it's not the same. It's just not. And now? It's all so stupid! Who cares what House I'm in, I'm screwed either way!"

"That's enough!"

Ginny's breathing was laboured, but she closed her mouth with an audible click and awaited his response. Truth to tell, Severus had no idea where to even begin. To know that family prejudice was the only thing that kept him from helping to shape Ginny Weasley's future, to stopping _this_ from happening, well, that angered him. As for Potter, well, he wasn't sure what to think about that. House rivalry, for all the amusement it offered him to take points, had reached a sickening new level over the last hundred years or so. He had suffered under it, just as so many others had.

More pressing, however, was that she admitted to harbouring a part of the Dark Lord's _soul_. If he could beat Potter about the head with that stupid diary and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing giving it back to Lucius Malfoy, he would.

"Miss Weasley, I am only going to ask you this once. Are you a true follower of the Dark Lord?"

She gazed at him sadly. "Not by choice," she whispered and he let out a breath.

He sighed, not really caring about pretences any more. He sat in the armchair behind him and indicated that she should sit in the one opposite him. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

"Clearly," he muttered. "Do you think I saved your life last year so that I could deliver you to this? Trust me when I tell you that it would have been preferable I had let you die that let you live the life I do."

"I had no choice. Don't tell me I did, because I didn't. Tom's in my blood, he sings inside me and I follow him. I _have_ to follow him. You can't understand what that's like. I know he has power over the people who follow him, but it's not the same. He's _inside_ me…he's a part of me and I just want him _out_. I just want it to stop. But it won't, not until one of us is dead and I'd much rather it was him."

"As would a great many people."

"I want to help you."

Snape leaned forward. "You can't."

"Give me one good reason why not."

"I'll show you your reason," he said and, without warning, he plunged into her head. Leglimens was his speciality and he was more than adept at using it to torture; he intended to give Ginevra Weasley enough of a taster to warn her well away. Unfortunately, things didn't go to plan.

Without warning, he was thrown backwards into his chair with such force that it toppled over, throwing him into an undignified roll. He had enough life experience that he instinctively ended up on his feet, facing her, wand in hand. He was beyond speechless.

"I told you," she said, a tear making its way down her cheek. "He's a part of me. He won't let you in."

"Can the Dark Lord see into your mind?" he asked, bluntly. He had lowered his wand and righted the chair with a wave of his hand, but his gaze never left hers.

"He doesn't know how. Not yet. I show him what I want and he thinks it's what he finds. Harry told me what it was like when you did it to him…I just made it up as I went along."

"And if you had failed?"

"Nothing could be worse than this."

"Miss Weasley, forgive me for not understanding your particular point of view, but believe me when I say that not only is it possible for things to get monumentally worse, but it is an inevitability. You _will_ regret this decision."

"I need to help them. I need to help _him_ and I can do that from the inside, I can help get them out. I'm not the next Hermione Granger, I don't have a special destiny, but I can do this. Please, let me do this."

"You can help _who_, Miss Weasley?" he asked, curiously, but she shook her head.

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't."

"Won't."

Severus appreciated her honesty and admired her bravery, even if her answer made him want to shake her until she told him what he wanted to know. There were few people who would stand their ground with him, it was a trait that he admired and it was the one thing that each of the three people he trusted possessed. The youngest Weasley may have done something utterly stupid, but he was hardly one to talk. She, at least, had a plan. Even if it was rather vague and, likely, implausible. She seemed to be under the impression that she would take out the Death Eaters single-handedly.

"I have been working to this goal for a long time, Miss Weasley. Tell me, why should I allow you to ruin everything I have worked for in the infantile hope that a teenage girl can do what I have yet to?"

She shook her head. "That's not it, Sir, that's not it at all. I don't think my presence will make much of a difference either way, not in the grand scheme of it all, but I'm not thinking about the final outcome, not on those scales anyway. I want to help people. Two in particular. I want to get them out…and I want to come out of this alive. That's all I want. But even if _I_ die, at least I died trying. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be free of _him_ right at the end. Even if I got to be just me for just one minute, it'd be worth it.

"I can't save the world, Professor Snape, that's Harry's job. It's Hermione's job, it's Ron's job, it's your job; it's the Order's job. I can't help you there, it's not my place. But maybe I can help some _people_ along the way."

"How very noble of you."

"This isn't about being noble. Are you trying to make this harder on me, Sir?" she asked, a slight edge of hysteria about her and Severus really hoped she wasn't about to cry. "I can't change what I've done and, as hard as it's going to be, I'm not sure I'd want to. I can't escape him without facing him."

Now _that_ was something Severus could understand. His circumstances may have been completely different and, in his case, it was about facing his own mistakes rather than being forced to due to circumstances thrust upon him, but still he understood it. Besides, there was little he could do to alter her course now and to try would not only mean her death, but likely his as well and, despite all evidence to the contrary, he was still rather attached to the mortal existence.

"All right, Miss Weasley," he said slowly. "I will guide your path, but make no mistake about it; I will do what is necessary to ensure both your survival and my own, even if you dislike my methods. Are we clear?"

She nodded and exhaled, relieved that he had agreed.

"Do not get comfortable, the worst is yet to come. And it will keep on coming and it will continue to get worse with each passing moment. This is no secret club you've joined, no game amongst your peers and, should you fail to please, your life will be the price."

"I understand that."

"I don't think you do. You must make the Death Eaters believe you are one of them and they will not choose to do so simply because the Dark Lord wishes them to. There will be those who will try to trip you up at every turn, who will make you fail again and again until you are disgraced. Or worse, you will be seen as nothing but a toy; a silly little girl who has no will other than that of the master who pulls her strings.

"You will need to be ruthless, you will need to do as they say, and you will need to show that you are willing to go one step further. Are you willing to kill, Miss Weasley? To torture? To destroy lives? Think carefully, before you answer, for there is no way to take it back when the time comes. The magic will eat at you from the inside. The Killing Curse may have the desired effect on those you cast it upon, but it will tear you apart. You will _feel_ that moment when their life ceases and you will remember it for the rest of your life…and that's only if you're lucky. If you're not, you will hollow out and the soul inside you will begin to rot as assuredly as that final breath leaving your victims."

There was silence in the room. Severus felt he had revealed both too much and too little; there really was no way to adequately describe the effects the Killing Curse had on its caster. He hoped she understood and he hoped she was one of the lucky ones.

"I know exactly what that's like, Professor, I've seen it and felt it every day since I was sucked into that diary. I've lived with it, breathed it, and dreamt it. I know more than you will ever understand."

"But those were not your deeds. Could you truly live with yourself when those people die by _your_ will? When you witness it with your own eyes?"

Her answer was soft, but sure and, even though it would save her life, Severus knew that it would also destroy her.

"If I have to."

xxxxx

**End of Chapter Five**

xxxxx

I'm sorry that the balance is so out on this one, but my Hermione muse just wouldn't stop talking and Snape, well, my Snape muse said everything that needed to be said and then refused to write any more. On the up side, the Hermione part _was_ really long, so let's hope it's enough to appease you all!

Thoughts and comments are appreciated.


End file.
